


Midnight whispers

by A_Splattering_Of_Paint



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira isn't even there, And what happened?, Fencing Rivals!!!, Filth with Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, I almost forgot the fencing rivals tag who am I!!!, I honestly just wanted Arsene to pay Goro a visit, M/M, Masturbation, fantasies, feelings happened, now with significantly more plot and akira!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Splattering_Of_Paint/pseuds/A_Splattering_Of_Paint
Summary: Goro figures he could try something different to help him relax before sleep after a frustrating day.He neither expects his rival's constantinterference, nor a late night visitor.





	1. A flutter of wings

**Author's Note:**

> I miss fencing terribly, I am a slut for Arsene, and I'd give my life for Goro's happiness. So this happened.
> 
> What up, hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t like Goro went out of his way to make a habit of this.

Desire rarely got its grip on him more strongly than an engaging book, or a case he could pour over until he fell asleep. But it did have … relaxing effects, to touch himself. And today, he was high-strung and angry, mind filled with Akira’s triumphant smile. His stupid sweaty face, hair mussed from his mask, eyes so _annoyingly -_

Goro grunted. No. He was supposed to _stop_ thinking of Akira. Akira, who had challenged him until Goro had dropped his foil. _Dropped_ it with an embarrassing cluttering noise. The bastard had the gal to act _concerned_ too - so _condescending -_

Goro grunted in frustration and cut that thought to a halt by viciously working himself.

Yeah, that was so uncomfortable it sure took his mind off things. He halted - no use in rubbing his dick raw through sheer frustration - and tried to soothe himself into a rhythm. Something that would get him excited ...

A mental image. Yes.

Strong arms, a nice chest. Hot lips against his neck. Or something. Goro sighed, rolling onto his stomach and putting his face into his pillow. He couldn’t think of anything.

Someone who’d hold him down? Who he could surrender to and be taken care of and yadda yadda, hands grasping him, slipping down his pants -

No, not spicy enough. Not _distracting_ enough. He kept thinking of Akira. Akira, and his stupid grin, Akira, and the way he swung his hips, Akira, moving lightning-quick, catlike, no matter whether he was practising footwork or facing an opponent -

No. Oh, hell no. He’d not just gotten properly hard _and_ slick from thinking of that wretched -

Goro pressed his face harder into his pillow and muffled a yell. But at least it had gotten the job done. So, back to that muscular faceless guy with _light hair_ and -

Goro grunted. The more he tried to concentrate on the image, the more it slipped from him. He found himself wondering if it was too late to just get out a case and think about that instead. That’d be productive.

But just yesterday his therapist had told him to do things for _himself,_ things other than pouring over cases. And this counted, right? Was there anything more _for himself_ than … well.

Goro groaned. It was just such a hassle. Should he lay out a towel so he wouldn’t have to change his sheets after? He closed his eyes, stroking himself slowly. Exhaled, and relaxed against the mattress. Maybe it was better not to think or imagine anything at all. To just concentrate on the feeling ...

He shivered, aware of every breathy sigh against his pillow as he stroked himself, making his own voice shiver. Slow, languid. It wasn’t bad.

A little more … maybe he should touch himself? His right hand was so tired from training today, though … maybe he had overdone it, maybe Akira had been -

 _Akira._ Why was he still in his mind?! The whole exercise was meant to banish him from his thoughts, not – urgh. Goro wanted to _crush_ him, not do anything of _this kind_ to him. As if he would _allow_ Akira of all people to -

He tried to steer his mind back to some faceless guy, with more vigour this time.

Why go to the hassle of thinking of wandering hands when Goro could just instantly imagine to be held by his hips and propped up - he lifted himself to his knees for a bit of an effect, feeling his excitement at the position. It felt so lewd, offering himself up - so that the super hot nameless guy could thrust into him, harsh and rough. Goro pushed his face down into the pillow with gusto, quickening his pace. Oh, now _that_ got him excited.

The thought of fingers pressing into his hips, long and slender fingers - the way they’d fold around the grip of a foil, that underlying strength despite their elegance - fingers that could no doubt -

Goro tossed himself backwards on his back, panting up at the ceiling, tossing his hands away, to the left and right of his head. No touching if _that_ was what his mind was going to -

For a split-second, he had absolutely -

No, no. Okay. Fine. So his mind somehow wanted to channel his frustration into this outlet. Okay! He could do that. Yeah. Just _differently._ It wouldn’t be _Akira_ to hold him down and have Goro pliant beneath him.

Good. Second try. It was kind of a dick move (haha?) to think of a real person for this.

Then again, Akira would probably be _delighted_ by it. The damn bastard.

Fine, then. Fine. No regrets. Goro shoved his pants down to his ankles, then considered and brushed them off, kicking them away in a wide arc that ended in an anticlimactic flop of cloth somewhere at the edge of his bed.

Good. He was doing this. To the very end, for better or for worse.

Closing his eyes, he trailed his fingertips down his chest and further, carefully arranging the image in his mind as he shivered at the touch.

Akira, the confident, cocky grin vanishing under a kiss that left him breathless. Yes, Goro was completely taking him aback - swiping him off his feet.

And Akira would be soft, and willing. Every line he tried to spout Goro would silence. In this regard, they would not be equals - Goro would have the upper hand, and firmly keep it. Hold the reigns.

He put his other arm over his eyes, gasping. That mental image … had the intended effect. It sure did.

In the hidden depths of his mind he undressed Akira, made him gasp more. Kept him quiet, quiet at last - quiet except for his noises. How would he sound? Oh, beautiful, no doubt. So pretty it would be frustrating.

But maybe Goro could accept it, just in that moment, when it was only for Goro, when it was all _only his_ -

“Gah!” He lifted his hands from his eyes, staring at the half-dark of his ceiling. The startled noise had gotten him out of his rhythm.

What was he doing? This wasn’t good. This was not acceptable behaviour, but he was achingly hard, and now he _wanted -_ he needed release.

Better to indulge in it then, right? Get it over with fast, so he could put this behind him and never think of it again.

This was only a means to an end. To relax and sleep properly, so he could get back to his regularly schedule crushing of Akira tomorrow …

And it was Akira’s fault he was up, right? He should take some responsibility and help him sleep.

Before Goro could reconsider, his hand chose for him, and he shivered and arched. In the quiet of his bedroom, Goro allowed noises to slip past his lips - soft and secret.

Akira’s hair would be soft - his lips all the softer, no doubt.

His hands - rougher. Maybe they’d tighten in Goro’s hair - pull the tie from it - he reached up to do it himself, sighing as he lifted himself up and shook it free.

Akira would lean in and breathe one thing - the one thing he had the first time they had faced each other, when Goro had pulled off his mask - “ _Beautiful.”_

Back then, he had snarled. Right here and now, he whimpered, straining into his own touch. Imagining it would be Akira’s fingers … his beautiful, beautiful - _ah -_

The image in his mind changed, shifted, so subtly he couldn’t protest or keep it at bay. Goro was lost in a current pulling him under and down, and every stroke of his fingers robbed his rational thought more, flooded his mind with nothing but these images, these feelings, this _yearning._

Akira in the locker room - the locker room? Perhaps a shower stall, somewhere with a lock - or after everyone had left … only them …

They challenged each other, went for it -

Blades clashing, breath rattling through Goro -

This time when he dropped his foil, Akira kept advancing. Goro stumbled back, away, and watched -

Akira pulled off his mask -

That grin, the fire in his eyes -

He knew he had won and he was going to -

Goro’s back hit the wall -

Akira reached up and eased the mask from Goro’s head, and the air kissed his heated face first, but Akira followed -

Goro moaned into his kiss - _faster, faster -_ Akira’s hands kept wandering - peeled him out of his gear -

Definitely showers, they’d somehow made it into the showers, fuck getting undressed, Goro had no time for this in his fantasy. No, he was naked already and Akira’s hands were all over him, claiming him - _oh -_

Akira’s hand fisted in his hair - tilted his head back - _beautiful,_ he breathed - his eyes were warm, burning, because Goro was all he wanted, all he yearned for - _oh, oh,_ too much, too much.

Biting his lip, Goro tried to think of nothing but the physical thing - no eyes, no smiles, no compliments - hands grasping, taking -

Akira shoved against him, caged him in, held him in place - but it was fine, Goro trusted him, he knew Akira would be - _no more damn feelings._

Goro grit his teeth. Akira held him in place and didn’t even lube him up properly he just thrust into him. There! Goro growled and rolled sideways. Rough and fast and nothing personal. Just a fuck in the shower. Was there water? Maybe. What did he care.

His hand slowed, and Goro curled into a small ball. This wasn’t fun at all.

Somehow, he was trembling, his whole body shaking mildly. It wasn’t as if he was cold - the opposite of it really. But he couldn’t stop shaking the slightest bit. What he was doing here ...

Nobody would know, right? Nobody would ever know.

Goro closed his eyes, and took a careful breath as he stretched out again. Slowly, almost shyly now, he curled his fingers around himself and conjured the images once more, wrapped them around himself like arms holding onto him.

Akira held him, with strength but not force. He was warm, no doubt he was warm, whispering compliments into Goro’s ear. Their bodies dripped with water, but it wasn’t cold - no it was warm, only warm. In Akira’s arms.

He’d be careful - he had worked Goro open already, with great care - he was careful, but he didn’t hesitate as he pushed inside him - connected them - held Goro so close, as close as he could.

“Akira,” he whispered, in the quiet of his own room, alone, pitiful and yet so immersed in this that Goro couldn’t mind, still could not stop.

Akira would rock into him - hard enough to steal his breath. Picking up pace bit by bit. And the harder he took Goro, the steadier he would hold him, keep him on his feet.

“Please - “ Goro croaked. “Please, Akira - ah - “

Akira would press a burning kiss to his neck - breathe his name, over and over - sing it, really - go faster, harder, pace going erratic - close, Akira was close - _Goro was close -_ and he braced himself, let go of coherent thought.

Goro threw his head back and indulged himself in letting his voice ring, crying for Akira, begging and pleading in ways he would never, _never_ let another human being hear -

Coming harder than he could remember coming ever, curling in on himself - his heated body and his vulnerable heart, racing in his chest, raw and aching.

There was a sound - a gentle flutter of a sound, so familiar and yet unfamiliar that Goro could barely place it, especially post-haze. He slowly pulled his hand to his chest, careful not to soil his sheets further even though the damage was already done - and froze, post-haze or not - when his gaze met another - _burning._

Burning in the most literal sense of the word, the expression like dancing flames, eyes and a grin.

Dark wings folded, giving only a hint at their massive span before they disappeared from sight, tucked at the … _creature’s_ back.

Goro was not … alarmed, per se. Startled, yes. But if anything, he found himself pushing himself up and blinking through the haze, taking in the silhouette of whoever seemed to have appeared in his room - tall enough to make a room that had always felt empty and gaping to feel … almost cramped.

Goro licked his lips as his eyes took in more - wide talons, their dark glint in the moonlight absolutely devastating. A tailored suit and proportions resembling a human and yet so very different. If anything, it was a deep sense of curiosity he felt.

And then he looked back up at those eyes. No pupils, and yet, Goro _knew_ he was being watched. Intently so.

He pulled his soiled hand - warm and sticky from fantasising about his archnemesis - closer against his chest and said, breathless, but perfectly even: “Good evening.”

Because if he was to greet a monster in his room post-orgasm, only wearing a dishevelled shirt and with his bed in an obvious _state,_ well, he still had his manners.

“It feels so terribly rude to barge in on you like this,” said a voice so pleasantly deep, it made him shiver. Perhaps it was the lingering taste of desire in his blood, but Goro felt something inside him stir in ways it perhaps should not have, right now. “Forgive me. I could not help the call of your desire.”

The call of his desire. Goro looked down at his sticky hand. He sure had specific dreams, didn’t he? This had to be a dream.

Looking back up, he took his time to examine the figure his mind had conjured for him. The heels were … interesting. Even sharper than the ones Akira had - ah.

Was that what was happening? Some kind of winged monster inspired by Akira with a deeply pleasant voice, a surprisingly dapper outfit, and arms that could certainly hold someone quite closely …

“My subconscious couldn’t come up with a better line?” Goro asked, licking his lips. His mouth felt dry.

A low chuckle was his answer. The creature lowered himself to the floor, sitting carefully across him. “You are not entirely off track, but I am afraid it is more complicated than that. Call me Arsene, cherished one.”

Arsene. “Like Arsene Lupin?”

“Precisely.” Arsene tilted his head, and something about his burning smile seemed inexplicably amused. Moreover, though …

“Cherished one?” Goro asked, voice catching on unfamiliar words. They stung, with his heart so raw and exposed, tonight. He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his legs to his stomach, chin resting on his knees. It was a posture he was awfully familiar with.

“I am bound to my master’s wishes,” Arsene told him, unhurried. His voice was so pleasant … Goro let his eyes flutter shut. It was soothing, to concentrate on nothing but listening. “His overwhelming need to fulfill your every wish. And tonight, your desire called me here. It is quite a lucky circumstance.”

Lucky. “Is it Akira?” Goro breathed, clean hand tightening in his shirt until his hands hurt, until he could feel the tug of elastic around his throat. This was what his mind would conjure, wasn’t it? Too much truth tonight.Honesty was such a painful, dangerous thing. It never brought anything good in its wake. “Your master.”

“Of course,” Arsene replied, that handsome beast Goro’s mind had conjured for him, singing siren songs of Akira yearning to, what, take care of him?

How pathetic had Goro become? “I can take care of myself,” he growled.

“Of course.” A rustle, a dip of his mattress. “But you do not always have to,” breathed that voice, close to his ear.

Goro’s face twisted, with rage, with -

He hiccuped, trembling. And it burst from him, all of it. All the coiled anger, all the frustration, all the loneliness. How could a sentence so _simple -_

But Arsene’s words were a lie, because there was nobody, _nobody_ he could rely on but himself -

He gasped when warm arms closed around him. For a dream, it felt so devastatingly real - the soft cloth brushing against his cheek, the chest falling and rising beneath. “Let go,” Arsene whispered, cradling him against his chest. A whisper of feathers folded around him, dark and warm as they closed the both of them away from everything. From a world that Goro did not know how to please, from prying eyes that weren’t meant to know this part of him - from everything other than this gentle embrace.

And Goro did let go. Without meaning to, but he burst into sobs. Ugly, loud sobs that tore through him with a force that left him boneless, helpless.

The loneliness was eating him up from the inside out, and he was tired. He was so tired of relying on nobody but himself. Landing this scholarship, smiling for counsellors who asked if he was okay.

He couldn’t even let his therapist see the bottomless pits that gaped in his soul. Not all of it, never all of it.

But right now, unquestioning, Arsene held onto him. As Goro lost control, lost stability with every agonised sound from his throat, Arsene steadied him. Hummed gentle words, words that rang empty and yet, right there curled into that embrace - felt soothing.

“You are not alone, cherished one. There is no need for you to be. Let me be proof of it until you can admit to your true heart.”

What a nice dream.

What a terrible dream.

Gently, gently, claws carded through his hair. It was a touch that should have unsettled him, but instead, Goro found his sputtering breath calming, the tremors easing until he only shivered with every inhale, every exhale.

“That is right,” breathed Arsene. “Allow yourself this, so you may awaken to what you can be after you rest.”

Goro rubbed his face with his sleeves before he let his arms fall, limp, to his sides. Let himself fall entirely. The words streamed past him like water, barely touching him. His mind was empty, but this time, it was pleasantly so. His head ached, he was snotty and gross, but all tension had left him.

When had he last felt this relaxed? No high-strung tension burned beneath his skin to keep him awake. Exhaustion embraced him, heavy and soothing.

Goro snuggled closer against the ruffled cravat, one hand coming up to grasp at Arsene’s jacket, grip weak, but soothing. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

“I shall do no such thing,” Arsene promised, his voice rumbling through Goro.

It was easy, to hide his small, secret smile inside that cocoon of warmth and comfort.

  
  


\---

  
  


Goro woke slowly, blinking at the sunlight trickling in through his curtains.

He felt relaxed, at ease. Rested. He looked at his hand sprawled from him in his line of sight, slowly curling his fingers into a loose fist, and relaxing it again.

Goro treaded carefully, worried this bone-deep ease would be blown away like dandelion seeds in the breeze. He rolled on his back, stretching his legs, then his arms. Closed his eyes again, and remembered, with a skip of his heart, a figure in the dark. His dream came back to him, bit by bit, in absolute clarity.

It had been so warm …

Goro dragged his knuckles beneath his cheeks as if he could find tears there, or any kind of confirmation that it hadn’t been a dream. What a fool he was.

But what nice dreams jerking off had gotten him, huh? Maybe he should do it more often.

Strange, though … he was fully dressed in his pajamas, cleaned and everything. Goro couldn’t remember doing that.

“Thanks, Arsene,” he breathed, chuckling to himself. So early, and already he had made his first joke. It would clearly be a good day.

Mh, perhaps he should pick the Lupin novels up again? It had been a while since he’d last read the adventures of the gentleman thief … wasn’t that the least he could do in gratitude for the pleasant figure in his dream?

Goro stretched another time, arms and legs spread from him, and sighed heavily.

It hurt a lot less in the daylight, in this gentle bubble, to have realised what … his desire was. Fantasising of a quick fuck in the shower would have been a lot more bearable than … whatever his feelings were.

But there was no need to acknowledge such a futile thing. He’d simply carry on, as he always had.

Goro sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. Shivering as he remembered that gentle touch …

Claws. He hadn’t known he had it in him, but apparently, his mind was quite intent on coming up with the most attractive monster it could have conjured for him. Amazing.

Goro yawned and sat up, putting his naked feet on the cool floor - huh? Something had brushed his ankle. Goro bent forwards to investigate, eyes widening.

With careful fingers, he picked up the single black feather that had landed there. Must have fallen from his bed …

His heart beat in his throat. What? He remembered the rustle of feathers, their warmth as they’d settled around him -

No, it must have been coincidence. A crow feather that had stuck to him, and had only revealed itself now.

Though a strange, giddy part of him refused to believe such a strange coincidence.

With great care, Goro placed the feather on his nightstand, making certain it would be in sight.

How very curious indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? I went into this wanting Goro to jerk off to the thought of Akira, Arsene being called by his desire, and taking him real good. I just wanted to write porn so steamy and explicit it would make me blush. And instead, Goro fumbled awkwardly and then got a big old hug. (Wonder what happened on the other end of that connection? Robin/Akira anyone?)
> 
> Don't get me wrong, I love this and it was so much fun, but I feel like I need to write a continuation where Goro finally gets that Arsene dick, ya feel me. AND where Goro and Akira get their shit together and smooch shyly. I am a person of simple needs.


	2. A dangerous dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to continue this for ages but inspiration never struck ... until last night when I realised the only way to carry on is to make sure this story continues to be super whack. It's fun not to give a damn for once in my anxiety-riddled life.
> 
> I finished this chapter with the little Goro&Robin Hood charm my best friend got me cheering me on and that made me really happy ...

Being attacked by a terrible nightmare with his hands down his pants had not been Akira’s idea of ideal alone time. Not in the slightest.

One minute he was happily gasping, crooking a finger inside himself and lifting his hips off the mattress, and the next, sound exploded directly above him. Akira’s eyes flew open, a blur of black and white descending on him. Horns buried into his mattress to his left and right, and a tight grip around his throat made his whole body convulse.

It happened so fast he barely had time to wheeze around the hand splayed across his throat.

“Naughty little kid,” a strange voice hissed, breaking into distorted laughter that hurt his ears.

_This is the worst nightmare,_ Akira thought, writhing in place to free his hands, flying up to where the hands - claws - held him down. Hot, foul breath ghosted across his face.

This was his punishment for thinking of one of his friends while trying to get off. _Accidentally._ But, still. Life came at him fast.

“I’ll rip out your throat and make it a feast,” the monster promised.

This was _decidedly_ not Akira’s kink. “How about no?” he wheezed back, nails scrabbling helplessly at coarse skin that felt too thick to be broken or even dented by his weak attempts. That was why he should have taken martial arts lessons instead of picking up fencing, probably. Ha.

“Oh but how about yes!” the monster screeched, cackling as it shifted above him.

The feeling of a heated body rubbing against him was a wee bit more Akira’s kink, which made for a terribly confused on-going boner, but hey. He wouldn’t kinkshame himself during a near-death experience. “I’m sure your blood tastes amazing,” the monster breathed. “You don’t know how long I wanted to _crush you,_ to _end you,_ to make you _sing in pain -_ ”

The grip on his throat tightened, but Akira managed a weak: “Oh, an admirer -”

“I’ll shut you up _forever,_ ” the beast howled, its grip cutting off his air.

_Time to wake up,_ Akira thought, chanted.

But what he got was a flash of light so blinding it made stars dance behind his lids. Or perhaps that was the lack of air, but either way, suddenly, the pressure subsided. The weight on him vanished, not soundlessly, but screeching madly, wildly.

Coughing and spluttering, Akira rolled onto his side, forcing his eyes open to watch what the _hell_ was happening. A blazing figure stood between him and the beast, a cape flaring in the man's wake that revealed, for just a second, an incredibly beautiful set of back muscles.

Being saved by a muscular hero wielding a huge, golden bow and crowding a cackling monster into the corner of Akira's very ordinary dorm room – frankly, he'd had stranger dreams before.

“Fiend!” declared the newcomer, cape fluttering back over his shoulders. “You shall never again lay a finger on the one I am sworn to protect!”

Oh. _Now_ things were getting interesting.

“Sworn to protect?!” The voice turned shrill, the monster rising to full height in its corner, horns scraping the ceiling. Akira got dizzy just looking at the black and white pattern wrapping around its body, one without beginning or end. What volatile energy.

Now, with such a strong knight between him and whatever had attacked him, Akira realised how terrified he'd actually been just by the relief he felt, bit by bit. He pressed a hand over his thundering heart. That felt … uncomcomfortably real.

“Don’t make me laugh, you goody-two-shoes! You know I’ll win!”

“You will not.” The blazing figure took another step forwards, crowding the beast further. “Can’t you feel it? The love I stand for - the need to protect - it’s much stronger than you’ll ever be.”

More of that laughter, so loud, so terrible, Akira shoved his hands over his ears, scrambling backwards to press his back against the wall.

“Fear not,” that soothing voice breathed. “Loki will not hurt you.”

And despite everything, Akira believed that.

“Oh, please!” Loki cried. “Delusions and lies! We both know our master’s true heart! It’s not a knight in shining armor. He’s a _beast_ waiting to taste blood!”

Strange. Absolutely, definitely strange. Heart thundering in his chest, Akira still listened, every word spoken burning into his memory. Somehow, instinctively, he felt like it was _important._ This was important.

“I believe in him,” the other figure said, words so true, so heartfelt, Akira felt his own heart ache with the emotion it evoked in him. Such respect and faith. Hope that was strong enough to rob the creature - to rob Loki - of the energy that had made Akira’s hair stand on end.

Suddenly, it was easier to breathe. Like a candle illuminating the night. “Vanish, now. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“You do not wish to hurt me!” Loki mocked, shrill. His voice strained so much it felt close to breaking. “I will _kill_ you! I will eradicate every _trace_ of your existence - until there is nothing left but my _truth -_ and you do not wish to _hurt me?!”_

“I do not,” the figure repeated, words laced with sorrow. “You are as much a part of our master as I am. I do not wish harm upon you - I only wish for you not to harm anyone.”

“You weak _fool!”_

Loki coiled with tension, like a predator ready to pounce, but the man in white calmly raised that golden bow. “No,” he said, voice perfectly calm. “Caring is no weakness.” The tip of his arrow stayed trained on Loki, not a single tremor disrupting its threat. “I do not _wish_ to hurt you, but if you leave me no choice, I will teach you this lesson in blood. You will not harm Kurusu Akira. Not now. Not ever.”

Akira shivered at hearing his own name, still feeling like a mouse caught between two cats. Helpless and breathless, and yet, endlessly curious. This was a struggle he did not grasp, and yet, wished to. This was a struggle he recognised, and didn't.

“Just wait. In the end, his blood will paint my fingers.” It was the first statement Loki delivered with deadly calm, and that alone froze Akira entirely. He barely dared to breathe.

“ _Leave,_ ” his protector hissed.

“Not because you told me,” Loki replied, grinning. “But because I know the time to make him sing will come.”

An in a vortex of noise and colour, he vanished, leaving the room in absolute silence.

Only when a warm palm settled across his back, fingers curling around his ribs, Akira realised he was still frozen. Shivering, he exhaled, stretching his stiff limbs.

“I am sorry I was too late to keep you from harm.”

Akira licked his dry lips. Tried to find a witty reply, and came up short. That was how he knew it was serious. But still, when he finally lifted his gaze to the face of his saiour, there was, at last, one question on his lips: “Who are you?”

“My name is Robin Hood,” he replied, bowing his head. Akira blinked, lips curling up as he realised those inititals were literally written, boldly, across his chest in bright colour. It wasn't unlike Goro's habit to put that signature A on almost everything.

What a creature Akira had dreamed up … Loki had been terrifying, but Robin? He looked like the very incarnation of a knight in shining armour indeed.

Despite his shaking hand, Akira reached up to trace the colourful headpiece above his eyes, from its red tip, along the length of the feathers sporuting from it.

Rather than pull away, Robin Hood lened into the touch, eyes closing in bliss. Trusting.

“Thank you,” Akira breathed. He resisted the urge to touch his throat, aching still with the phantom pain of being held down like that. Instead, he carefully lowered his hand into his lap instead.

“There is no need to thank me.” Robin said, a warm smile in his voice “I only wish to protect and do right by the world. And your safety is my utmost prioritiy.”

And why was that?

Frankly. A name did not answer the question Akira had posed. Who exactly this creature was. Why here, why now. And _especially_ why a strange monster was so dead-set on murdering him. “So, Loki … ?”

“Will never harm you again. I promise, if there ever is a next time – I will not be late again to stop this.” Robin spoke as if Akira's pain was his own, multiplied, and a careful, warm finger touched the marks left on Akira’s throat with a gentleness that obviously longed to heal them, right then and there.

“Don’t worry about it.” Careful, Akira curled his hand around the much, much bigger one next to him, mouth running a little dry at the size difference. In his defense, despite the naked fear having killed his boner, he _had_ planned this evening a lot differently. No kinkshaming in near death experinces, still. “Maybe I’m into it,” he added, with a lopsided grin. Just to lighten the mood.

Robin sounded doubtful. “Are you certain?

Akira gave a half-shrug. “Not at all. I guess if I were to find out, I’d prefer to try it out in a situation a little more … safe.”

“That sounds advisable,” Robin said benevolently.

Akira had the sudden inspiration to fall backwards on the mattress and drape himself nicely, fluttering his lashes and asking for help. But he really didn’t feel like trying anything into that regard with fear fresh in his system - he was tired and shaken in too many ways.

“I tell myself this is a dream,” Akira said, slowly. “But … is it really? It …” He swallowed, feeling the dull thrum of the lingering pain once more. “Shouldn’t I have woken … ?”

The warmth of Robin’s skin felt so very real.

The thunder of his own heart did, too.

“It both is, and is not,” Robin said, in the most cryptic way possible.

Akira barked a laugh, he couldn’t help it. And then he slipped into hysterical giggles, cleansing his system of the lingering fear with mild hysteria and true, genuine laughter as well. It figured! It figured it was both.

It figured all he'd get were cryptic answers. He couldn't tell why it was so funny, but god, it took him ages to stop wheezing and just bury his heated face in his hands. Before remembering where they had been, and pulling away, wrinkling his nose.

“Can I help you in any way?” Robin asked, gentle, careful.

Akira nodded, shook his head. Wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. It was a strange night. Why does Loki want to kill me? Why does he hate you?”

“You ask the hardest questions,” Robin said, with a suppressed sigh. Slow and measured, he shifted, and Akira answered the unspoken question in that careful movement, straining towards him, into the curl of the big, warm arm around him. Robin curled his cape around Akira's body, too, closing him against his big, reliable body. And sighing, Akira felt his tremors soothed.

It felt safe.

That was all he needed right now, and touched by the gesture, he softly added: “Don’t answer if it pains you.” He still hadn’t forgotten the sorrow in Robin’s voice, earlier. When he had told Loki he did not want to harm him.

“Loki’s feelings are strong, and merciless. Volatile, as well. We are … opposites. As much … love as I feel, as much he hates. We match each other, pace by pace.”

Akira shivered, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. That burning hatred, the need to kill him - it had been terrifying. But it meant for every ounce of that hatred he had seen, Robin had admitted to love. Two sides of the same coin.

“It is a dance,” Robin said quietly. “One not without danger for you.”

Terrifying, and thrilling all the same. Akira had always been too happy flirting with danger.

“Until one of you wins,” he mused.

A dream, and yet not. Would he forget all this? Could Loki even harm him?

Maybe he'd wake, and all would be smoke quickly dissolving in daylight, leaving nothing behind. But something told him … that was far from the truth.

“Perhaps,” Robin said, wistful. “But enough of this. I am here now, Kurusu Akira. Please allow me to take care of you. To soothe you.”

That same warmth from earlier, as Robin had talked about the faith in his master, coloured his voice now. As if aiding Akira was the most joyful moment for him, his biggest wish.

Akira curled into his embrace, sighing when two arms wrapped around him, pulled him closer still. “Who is your master?” he breathed against the chest of Robin Hood, the one who had saved him from a demon out to get him, destroy him.

The one with his initials stamped onto his chest, fighting a constant struggle, never finding a balance.

When Robin breathed Goro's name, Akira wished with all his might not to forget. Not when, after so long, for the first time, he felt like he _truly_ understood Goro in ways he couldn't rationally explain.

  
  


\---

  
  


“I got you concealer and foundation,” he could hear Ann call as she ducked into his room, ignoring, as always, the 'no girls in guy's rooms' rule. It was a little laughable, considering that it was an open secret that Haru and Makoto very much enjoyed being roommates in ways that weren’t always innocent.

“Seriously, Akira, what is this, tenth grade? If you’re gonna come to school again covered in hickeys, then please invest in your own -”

Akira stepped out of the bathroom, and Ann’s eyes went wide. She was upon him in an instant, her hands lifting, hovering helplessly over the bruises, and lowering again. “Who did this to you?” she asked, her voice trembling with fury and pain. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

“It …” Akira averted his eyes. “Can we … I can't tell you. Please, … accept it.”

Ann’s mouth fell open as if in protest, but this request was an undeniable aspect of their friendship. The unspeakable, the things they couldn’t share even though they wanted to – that was how they made each other understand. It took a lot of trust, but Akira needed it.

He did, as long as he'd have to come to terms with bearing marks he had gotten from a monster in a dream.

Ann couldn’t argue. She'd been the first one, ever, to ask him for acceptance without questions. They both knew that in time, they'd share it. “You won’t let it happen again,” she asked, but the way she said it, it sounded like a command. “Because I will not stand by and watch if anyone -”

“Ann.” He reached out, hesitating to touch her trembling frame until she nodded, shortly, curtly. He placed his palms on her biceps, left and right, holding her gently. “It’s fine. I am safe. Someone helped me.”

“Someone,” Ann repeated, her gaze averted. Her lip was trembling, but she forced herself to stay composed for his sake. Akira saw her struggle, his own heart seizing painfully because he _knew,_ he knew this pained her as much as him. Worse, because she had no idea what had happened.

But Akira … he couldn't even try to explain. Not yet. Not now.

“Fine. Fine. But 'no questions' won’t fly if I ever see you harmed again. That’s the rule.”

“Deal.” They shook on it, hands clasped too tightly for too long as Ann regained her composure, until finally she let out an explosive sigh and made him sit down.

Her fingers were so careful and gentle against his skin, Akira closed his eyes and relaxed against the touch.

It was always nice, to let Ann work her magic. Maybe he should ask her for full make-up again sometime. It had always made him feel special.

“There. Good as new. You’re … really okay?” she asked, quietly.

Akira grasped her hands and gently squeezed them. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I slept so well I feel like I could lead a heist.”

“A heist!” That made Ann crack a grin. “You’d better steal me some pastries … ah, now I’m hungry ..:”

Now there was a way to thank her for helping him out. Akira smiled. “I’ll get you some. You’ll never know if I stole them or not.”

“Don’t try to act mysterious with me,” she shot back. “I’ve known you too long for that.”

He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Do you ever truly know a person?”

“Shut up!” She shoved her bottles and cans into a little flame-coloured bag courtesy of Ryuji (‘Because it looks so damn cool!’) and turned on her heel. “Now, c’mon, or we’ll be late to oggle your crush.”

“I do not ogle,” Akira replied, piqued. “I am simply a connoisseur of all things beautiful.”

“Oh, please don’t pretend to have class, too. It won’t work.” Ann poked her tongue at him over her shoulder, and then hooked their arms together, laughing as she pulled him along.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Okay. Akira will get that Robin dick this chapter. YES.  
> Chapter: a strange character study and a super short hug.  
> Me: GODDAMMIT.  
> When will my smutty persona boning fic get actual smutty persona boning content.  
> (For real though ... I'm very uncertain about writing Robin Hood but it's very interesting! Writing actual struggle between those two sides gets my engines revving!!!)
> 
> Next up: Akira and Goro actually interact with each other!  
> I continue to toss whack stuff into this AU and keep watching it spiral out of control!  
> Yes. It's gonna be fun.


	3. Of feathersoft touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Goro and Akira dance around the topic and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'It's okay to leave this chapter at 1k to keep the story moving and get back into it for now!'  
> And then it became a monster. In all honesty, I don't know what happened. But I missed this fic and life's finally kicking my ass a little less, so hello hello again!

The world shrunk down to nothing but his highlighters mapping his way across the information he was processing, the careful curve of his every letter making the knowledge accessible for later opportunities.

He dotted every dangerous second of silence in class with annotations, musing on what could be up on the next test, connecting points, adding visual aids. Goro was _good_ at this. He had often been asked to have his notes copied, by peers and teachers alike.

His drive, his determination, his perfect scores had gotten him here on his scholarship. And nothing would distract him from -

Takamaki laughed somewhere behind him, to his left, where she sat _right next to -_

No. It didn't matter. He didn’t matter.

 _They’re probably laughing about you,_ sneered that small, vicious voice in his head that never seemed to shut up around -

Now that Goro had even just skirted around the thought of _Akira’_ s name, his very presence seemed to haunt him like some vengeful spirit summoned. Every fibre of him was much too painfully keenly attuned to his rival, and the pinching question whether he was looking at him or it was simply Goro’s imagination -

He tried to lose himself to streaks of yellow, orange and pink again. The monotonous drone of the lecturer’s voice. But the more he tried, the more pressing did the feeling of being _watched_ become.

An ugly smudge of ink soiled his perfect notes. Goro frowned down at it, lacking the words for his disappointment in himself.

Once more, he let Akira disrupt the perfect serenity of his life. He allowed himself a small smile at his little joke with himself - a perfect serenity, sure thing - and then wiped the expression, looking blankly at the last paragraph he had marked. Bright pink - the closest marker to red, for what was truly important.

For what he _should_ pay attention to.

And yet his mind wandered to the sensation of his cheeks leaned against warm feathers, smooth and strong muscle beneath, closing him in. Holding him fast. By the time he jerked back into awareness, his mind had strayed to wings folded around him so long, he had no idea how much he had truly missed.

 _Too much._ This might be the information that could cost him this one point, be the one chink in his perfect armour, wrecking his perfect score. Damn it all. Frustrated, he rubbed at the ink stain he’d left earlier, as if that could erase it, and ended up smudging it more.

And all the while, he was so aware - so painfully aware that if he turned, he’d see that mob of dark hair. Lips curling into a slow, lazy smile. Dark eyes looking at him behind the rim of those glasses, glasses Goro was _sure_ he didn’t need and found so infuriatingly -

No. No.

His notes. That was all that mattered.

Ink, highlighters, information. He’d ask Nijima for her notes, later.

\---

“Goro!”

The one person he had not wanted to see, speak to, or acknowledge. Of course. For a second, Goro considered pushing past Akira as if he hadn’t heard him, and plainly ignoring him. But he was too weak for that and so, instead, turned to face him.

Up close, the sight was not much easier to bear, but Goro had experience handling it. Even though last night was way, _way_ too fresh in his mind. “Akira,” he replied, voice perfectly neutral.

The whole first name thing was, as so many things, entirely Akira’s fault.

Back when he’d transferred and tried out for the team, this - _underdog_ had of course instantly challenged Goro as the team’s ace. Rather than settle in, finding his pace, taking it slow, he’d barrelled ahead with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes.

Goro, of course, had been happy to be offered the opportunity to put him in his rightful place, swiftly. And after Akira had held his own and given him a run for it, despite being ‘out of practice’, Goro had been red-faced with infuriation at beating him by nothing but a hair.

So far gone that, when Akira had lifted the mask away and offered his hand, saying: “Rivals should go by first names, don’t you think?”

Well, Goro’s traitorous mouth had simply, pleasantly agreed around the glass shards on his tongue begging to be spit out and into that new guy’s face.

And now, he had to endure his given name wrapped in the silk of Akira’s voice any given day.

Truly, the perfect peace of his routine had been shattered the day Akira had been ushered into here, the influence of his parents allowing him to transfer during the middle of the school year.

Some people simply had all the opportunities. However Akira had fucked up, he’d made a cozy life here, banded friends around him, and effortlessly held his own academically and in fencing. Akira could have whatever he wanted - he’d even snatched Goro’s first name

But he wouldn’t have _him._ Never.

“What is it?” he asked, impatient, when it seemed that Akira was more busy looking past him.

“N-nothing, just …” Had Akira just stuttered? Goro’s gaze snapped up in interest, but his every thought screeched to a halt when Akira reached up and -

There was a breath of a touch at Goro’s hair, behind his ear, a spot so sensitive that Goro had to physically jerk his body to keep himself from reacting, or acknowledging it, in any way.

“You - there was something,” Akira explained, sounding a little breathless.

Goro’s heart almost stopped when he saw the hint of black fluff Akira offered between his fingertips. “In your hair,” Akira added.

His laughter sounded forced even to him, the worst act Goro had ever put on. “Oh, how embarrassing.”

He needed to go. _Leave._ Before he pondered more over everything, before last night caught up with him - it couldn’t when he was facing Akira of all people - the reality of that dream was an issue he needed to ponder in a room with a lock, unseen by anyone.

“I’ll be going,” he said, too hastily, and moved to leave, but - something caught his eye that made him move into the opposite direction. Drew him close to Akira, impossibly close, close enough to be dangerous. “Who -” he bit out, his fingertips resting against Akira’s neck, above that bruise.

“Are you stupid?” he snarled. Did Akira think Goro had never seen a bruise under concealer? It might fool anyone else, but Goro knew too well how such a thing looked - he -

It was the soft noise escaping Akira that snapped Goro out of it. Made him acutely aware of how unbearably close they were. He swallowed, hard, and took a step back. His hand fell from Akira’s skin, fingers burning as Goro curled them into a fist - a burn not even the sting of his own nails could distract him from.

What was he doing?

“Not even your parents can help you if you get into that kind of trouble,” Goro said, because he didn’t know how to ask Akira if he was okay. That was - it looked like someone had tried to choke him. It was terrifying.

Where had his friends been?! What good were they trailing him all day when nobody had looked out for him in that moment?!

And all Goro’s words had done was bring a withdrawn expression onto Akira’s face, a rueful chuckle. A stupid mask, because those were the only ways they could face each other - through the visor of a mask. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I tried to explain. It won’t happen again.”

How could he be so sure?

Goro unclenched and clenched his fists again. Damn Akira. “You ought to take better care of yourself. I won’t lose my rival to stupid brawls.”

It didn’t look like a brawl at all. It looked like -

“You say the sweetest things sometimes.” Akira said, his voice so uncharacteristically soft.

Goro’s fingers uncurled only to squeeze tighter again, burying deeper, burning crescents into his palm as he slowly suffocated on his own silence.

“Anyways.” Akira cleared his throat. Shrugged with one shoulder, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if it was nothing. His act wasn’t even trying to be convincing. “Should get going. Just thought I’d fix your style before someone catches you with raven fluff in your hair.”

Infuriating, as always. For a split-second, only a flash of a heartbeat, Goro considered asking about Arsene. Just blurt it out, and see if it would splinter Akira’s mask. But  that, in itself, would pose the risk of cracking his own.

It was a stalemate, as always. Every move would leave him vulnerable, so Goro chose to instead -

“I’ll see you at practice later.” Akira lifted his hand in a half-assed wave.

Goro watched him turn, and he - “Akira.”

“Mh?” His expression was interesting, as he tilted his head to look back over his shoulder. Goro wished his eyes weren’t so hidden behind his glasses.

“Could I borrow your notes?” Goro’s eyes darted away from the mystery of those eyes as he, forcefully, unclenched his aching fist. “I’ll give them back at training.”

Even looking away, he could _hear_ the smirk in Akira’s voice. “What, were you distracted?”

 _Certainly not by you,_ Goro thought, pressing his teeth together in a smile he barely bothered to mask as one. “Perhaps a little. Is that a yes?”

“Oh!” Akira’s voice sounded wondrous.

Goro looked up, squinting. “What?”

“That was surprisingly honest.” Akira perked up, a whole body thing. It was ridiculous.

Goro rolled his eyes, hard and exaggerated, some of his tension easing as they fell back into their routine. This was territory he could navigate. The back and forth that felt like movement, when in truth, they never left the same place they kept dancing around. It was comfortable to be stagnant. Calculabe.

“So that is a _yes,_ Akira?”

“Of course it is.” Akira flipped his bag open - Goro’s brows rose as he remembered rumours that he carried a cat in there - and pulled out his notepad. “Copy them whenever you have time to.”

“Thank you,” Goro said, placing his briefcase on a nearby desk and snapping it open to store the notes with care. They were rough, scattered with doodles, but he knew Akira was thorough. It was the only reason Akira had turned out to be a rival academically as well.

“I terribly dislike working off a screen, be it a phone or a laptop or whatever devices people tend to use. I like the feeling of paper and pens, having something to touch, pages to flip.” Why was he talking? He had to stop talking, and fiddle with his briefcase faster. “I always feel as if the sensuality of incorporating touch into my learning process truly helps me remember.”

“The sensuality of touch, huh,” Akira repeated back at him, grinning in ways that made Goro’s cheeks flush despite himself. “It’s certainly a special motivation.”

“Oh, come on,” Goro scoffed, finally snapping the lid shut again and lifting his briefcase with a flourish. He couldn’t meet Akira’s eyes, because the teasing tone brought back certain memories, and he didn’t manage to quell the thought of incorporating those into a new fantasy for -

“You’re so innocent. It’s fun to tease you.” Akira’s smile looked at least a little remorseful. If one squinted. “Sorry. I do agree that it helps me, too, to take physical notes. Plus, I get to doodle.”

Goro nodded distractedly, only half listening. Innocent, was it? Perhaps he didn’t have to worry at all about ever being discovered.

That thought was inexplicably … uplifting. “I don’t want to keep you any longer, Akira. Shouldn’t you be going?” Goro asked, the pleasant tone of his voice coming easily to him again.

“Oh, right. Class.”

“Class,” Goro echoed, nodding, as he passed by Akira. “I’ll see you at training.”

He tried not to dwell at the glimpse of Akira’s hand as he passed him by - the hint of black fluff still between his fingers, as if he subconsciously couldn’t bear to part with it.

\---

“So, what are the chances he got distracted because he was thinking about me?” Akira asked, hoping to prompt open discussion at lunch break.

Ryuji’s eyes slowly snapped up at him as he kept chewing through an enormous bite of food, then surrendered halfway through and stuffed his cheeks with it to answer: “Dude. Not everyone’s always thinkin’ about you.”

Akira pointed his fork at him. “I bet you’re thinking about me right now.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re _right in front of me!”_

“So you don’t deny it.”

Ryuji grunted.

“Guys, guys,” Ann sighed. “You’re hopeless and not asking the real questions.”

Akira perked up. “Which would be?”

“If I say yes, Akechi Goro totally zones out during class thinking of how dreamy you are, do I get your pudding?” She fluttered her lashes at him.

“Why am I friends with you heathens,” Akira breathed, sliding his chocolate pudding over to a cheering Ann.

“‘Cause we’re awesome, dude,” Ryuji replied, eyeing the pudding with some envy.

“‘Cause you love us _so very much,_ ” Ann singsonged, sighing with happiness at the first taste of pudding. She kept the spoon in her mouth as she hummed, musing.

That was what Akira had hoped for. She was actually on his side now. Bless her for being so easily bought with sweets. “I mean,” she began, taking the spoon into her hand again, swinging it in a steady motion as she spoke. “You’re definitely taking it a bit far hoping it was you and stuff, but the way he keeps looking at you? I mean, I don’t think you _wouldn’t_ have a chance.”

“Whyever you’d be into someone as stuck-up as that,” Ryuji grumbled to himself.

“I’ll have you informed that he’s really pretty,” Akira replied, automatically, as he did every single time they had this argument. He didn’t care to dig into the true meat of this, because he was pretty sure this had long been too muddled by infatuation and exasperation to count as simple attraction anymore. And it wasn’t like his friends didn’t know.

“Well, doesn’t fix his _personality.”_

“Akira is allowed to have shit taste, Ryuji. Also, he’s actually kinda cute. And he gets all, wham, suddenly intense when he fences. It’s kinda hot.”

“Not you, too,” Ryuji groaned, knocking his forehead into the table in defeat.

“I’m just telling it as it is!” Ann shot back. “I mean, I can see why he has a whole fanclub.” Her gaze swung on Akira, glinting. “Pretty incredible of you to lead it even with sports and school going on, Akira.”

“Wow,” he dead-panned, with his utmost lack of inflection.

Ann held his gaze as she stuck out her hand, getting a swift high five from Ryuji.

“Well, as the leader of his fanclub,” Akira informed her with dignity, “It was my duty to lend him my notes.” The notes … across which he’d scribbled little Robin heads. Not that he was worried anyone would catch any resemblance. No, art wasn’t exactly his forte.

“Hope you didn’t scribble ‘Akechi Akira’ all over it,” Ann muttered around the spoon, making Ryuji snort.

Akira considered revoking her future pudding rights. “Who says he wouldn’t take my last name?”

“Dude!” Ryuji shook his head. “This is the worst. Like, what am I gonna do? If you marry the guy, I’ll have to, what, pretend I can stand him? Gross.”

“You really can’t hate Akira’s fiancé,” Ann muttered, brows furrowed. “That’s gonna be a problem.”

It was nice to have such optimistic friends.

“Well, Akira would have to ask him out first.” Ryuji shrugged. “Guess that ain’t happening anytime soon.”

At Akira’s expression, Ann reached out and patted his arm. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll get there. Wait!” She squinted at him. “Were you trying to ask him out when you approached him this morning?”

Well. “No?” For once, he hadn't, but it was easier to explain than the fact that he'd meant to bring up last night, and chickened out immediately.

“Oh my god! That’s, like - the fourth time this _month.”_ For someone so supportive Ann sure had switched camps fast. “Akira, you're hopeless!”

“It’s complicated! I swear the words are right there! They just, kind of, disappear.”

And then Goro had touched him, and his fingertips had burned against Akira’s neck. The look in his eyes - for a split-second, it had been entirely honest. A fire raging, burning, and shuttered again before Akira could grasp it, truly.

What would it take to coax it out? To set Goro ablaze?

He saw a glimpse every time he snatched a win from him, but the reality of Goro’s expression was always obscured by the mask. How fitting, that he would have picked fencing, a sport that not only shielded his face from the world, but happened in precise, lightning-flashes of attacks and parries. There was no time to scrutinise, to know someone beyond that, in the heat of the moment.

But Akira was tired of dancing around things. Of hinting and smiling and trying to rile him up only to be shut down. He wanted Goro’s truth, his bared soul. Wanted to clash and see what’d happen, no matter what that meant.

Even if he knew it'd make him vulnerable. That was what had them both so paralysed, wasn't it?

Someone had to finally lower their mask first.

When Goro had touched him … Akira had felt as if – he'd finally seen him, down to his core, for once. Ferocious, beautiful, and shattered in ways that Akira had learned to hide as well.

Didn't have to mean their edges would fit together, but, damn it all.

“Oh, honey,” Ann sighed. “You really have it bad, don’t you?”

Ryuji poked at his food, not looking up. “I mean, I hate the guy. But you’re my best effin’ friend, so if that asshole would make you happy, of course I want shit to work out.”

“Aww, Ryuji!” Ann leaned her head on his shoulder. “That was really sweet.”

“Sh-shuddup,” he muttered, and Akira smiled seeing a hint of red on his cheeks.

“Aww,” he joined in, bracing his chin on his hand, grateful to be distracted from his thoughts. He'd just … unpack the whole thing later. Maybe.

“Hey guys! What’s happening?” Mishima squeezed in besides Akira, and Shiho did the same from the other side, wordlessly passing her pudding to Ann, as her scrutinising gaze spared Ryuji for lack of juicy gossip, and settled on Akira instead. “Okay, lemme guess. The topic is your zombie cat crush. _Again._ ”

“It’s not a -”

“You’re afraid to open the box and see if the cat is dead or not,” Shiho cut him off, viciously slicing into the meat on her plate. Akira winced in sympathy. “So it’s your zombie cat crush. Neither rejected, nor requited. Coward.”

Akira looked to the others for support, finding Ann making a face and Ryuji shrugging, conveying “Well, she’s got a point” without ever using words.

Only Mishima came to his aid. “Well, it’s a really delicate topic! I’d … I’d be scared, too.” Mishima met his gaze with a small, encouraging nod. “But you can do it!”

Akira sighed, his inner peace restored. “You’re the only one I can trust here.”

“But, I mean,” Mishima added, his innocent expression fooling nobody. “You really have been going on about this since you got here. Aren’t you usually so quick about everything you set your mind to?”

Akira shook his head, clutching his chest in mock-pain. “See what you all have done? You stained the only nice one in our group, too, now.”

“It’s called tough love,” Shiho informed him, with gusto. “And it’ll only get worse from here unless you get your shit together.” She gave Mishima a fistbump around Akira, as Ryuji and Ann nodded vigorously.

He really couldn't catch a break with them.

But his friends were right. All this useless dilly-dallying got him nowhere. If last night’s strange not-dream wasn’t a sign to take a risk, then what was?

“You know, actually,” he mused, watching the beauty of Ann digging into her next pudding with a serene expression, and finding that he really, really loved this bunch of weirdos. “I think I know exactly what to do. Now, can we roast someone else? I don't plan to catch fire before training.”

“Excuses,” Shiho scoffed, but mercifully, she finally decided to dig into Ryuji. “Sooo, what was that cute blush all about?”

“He declared his undying love for me,” Akira informed her, revelling in his revenge. “Right after Ryuji admitted that all day, every day, he is thinking of me. His speech was touching. You missed a beautiful moment, guys.”

Next to him, Mishima was choking on his food with laughter, and Ann buried hers in Ryuji's shoulder, 

“Oh, eff you,” he grumbled. “I'm never gonna say anything nice to you again, ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira, tenderly roasted. I originally meant to give him all the phantom thieves, but I ended up liking the idea of, like, Original Squad better? So hey!
> 
> Also, I actually have a plot lined up now. That alone is like, what, maybe five chapters? And that doesn't count in all the monster dick, which this fic was meant to be for. So I guess this will be a ride. Hopefully the literal kinky kind soon. 
> 
> In all honesty it's so late I had to google 'Akechi suitcase' so that google would tell me the proper word was briefcase. Defs gonna catch some sleep now ... talk about midnight whispers indeed.


	4. A starlit sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Goro finds a lot of different things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took me ages! Heyo!
> 
> (Thank you for your kind feedback, btw!! It means the world. If I haven't replied it's usually because I get really shy, but please know every kind word is CHERISHED.)

His room greeted him with another letter, the envelope thick and elegant. Goro sneered, flexing his fingers in his gloves. He picked the thing up, gripped it tightly, and ripped it in half before dropping it into his trash can.

Beelining to the window, he threw it open to let cool air in, and decided that today he would solve a mystery of his own.

The black feather was still on his nightstand, and Goro had never believed in leaving a case unsolved. Picking it up with careful fingers, he considered his options to gain more clues.

Once you had eliminated the impossible, after all, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, had to be the truth.

By the time darkness urged him to turn on his desk lamp, Goro found himself opening the leatherbound book he had not dared to use yet and picking up a heavy fountain pen to document his findings in neat, careful letters.

Fluttering his lashes to use a microscope and ask some questions had worked well enough, but the professor had simply told him it must have been a bird not native to their area in a slow, lethargic voice. Weighing the pen in his hand, Goro settled to jot this point down in favour of Arsene being real.

For completion's sake, he noted the possibilities of a very vivid dream, of course. Furthermore, sickness - though that thought was quickly discarded as he felt, if anything, more refreshed than he usually did.

Hallucinations, of course, though if that was the case, he was afraid it would be hard to pin those down as fact from the confines of his own mind. Was it even possible to be aware of such a thing?

And then, his gut told him something, hand moving before his mind caught up - he had learned to trust those instincts, the small bursts of _something_ that steered him on in his cases.

_Akira’s bruises._

Huh. Goro blinked down at the words, slowly capping the pen and placing it aside. It made sense, of course. Arsene had spoken of his master, of Akira, but how would he get such bruises from any kind of connection in that regard?

A vague feeling churned in his gut, making him queasy, something out of conscious grasp that had him wary of its future revelation – but for now he added a small note about the feather down Akira had brushed from his hair, and leaned back to take the list as a whole in.

Not much, not really. Speculation and barely anything that would count as proof hardly made for something he could count as solved, as explained.

There was only one thing left for him to do in his quest for the truth.

With a small sigh, Goro faced the plastic bag sitting, untouched, by his bedside. He had gone for a rather elaborate bike tour earlier, heading several kilometres out to purchase the kind of tool that could aid him in his … research. It was a small bottle of the least intimidating lube he had been able to find. The variety of … flavours had taken him aback. The ‘natural’ variant had seemed the most unassuming and safe, so he had opted for that.

But even just considering settling in, letting his thoughts run wild, conjuring those kinds of images as he -

It was for a _cause._ The swift recreation of circumstance was crucial to gauging his situation and its impact on him, and besides, if anything the memory of Akira's warm skin beneath his fingertips and that teasing lilt to his voice should _help -_

Steeling his shoulders, Goro extracted the bottle from its bag, and grasped it firmly. He wasn’t intimidated simply because he wasn’t particularly used to the matter at hand. It wasn’t as if anyone would see him …

But did he not hope to be seen by a particular someone with dark wings and a soothing, gentle voice?

Somehow, now was the moment he realised, painfully, that if Arsene was real, he truly had seen him at his worst. And yet, he had stayed. The only one who had ever, truly.

Wasn't it desperate, to … ?

No, no. It was a perfectly rational attempt to conjure him again. So there was no point to postponing it, and if anything, Goro was in desperate need to distract himself from his thoughts. So he made his way through his small room, locking the door, lowering the blinds.

No prying eyes. Only his secrets. Unknowable secrets, he reminded himself, because Akira would never suspect. Unless he knew, somehow - did he know?

_No, no. I’m not even sure yet Arsene exists. I can worry about that later._

He was worrying about it already. But Goro was also worrying about roughly five other things he couldn’t engage with right now, so he carefully settled a lid on them and hoped it wouldn’t fly off anytime soon.

Right, the matter at hand. He returned to the small, unassuming bottle. Fluffing up his pillows he lay flat on his back, blinking at his ceiling. Remembering the night before, the peace that had settled. What if it had just been a beautiful and feverish dream? Wasn’t he just chasing soap bubbles?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he set his feet apart on his bed, grinding them with force into the mattress. Unbuttoned his pants, but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them. To touch himself. When he closed his eyes and tried to think of - Akira’s teasing tone, or perhaps Arsene’s touch, all that -

His thoughts kept running back to -

With a frustrated growl, he got back to his feet, tension so coiled in his shoulders they ached. Stiffly, he crossed the room and bent down to tie his barely-filled trash bag. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything with that damn curved handwriting glaring at him, even just _physically_ in the room with him?

He’d take care of that. And then everything else. Slipping into his shoes, he took up the damn bag, grabbed his keys, and headed out.

Someone passed him by on the corridor, but he sped up and avoided eye contact, breath ragged, fists so tight they ached. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't -

And then he pushed the door open and the cool night air brushed his face, and Goro breathed. He took a deep, gulping breath, and another.

The backyard was completely deserted, and Goro relished in the anonymity of the quiet dark, barely illuminated by a struggling street lantern. With slow, measured steps he crossed the small court. Another look around – there was nobody close by, nobody who would notice, and the tension was still crawling under his skin like a living thing.

And in a spur of the moment, Goro allowed himself to let loose a shout as he slammed the damn bag away where it belonged.

The sound came out small and choked, and if anything, he only felt more humiliated now.

“What passion,” muttered a voice, and Goro’s heart stopped.

That had come from _above._ He tilted his head, eyes zeroing in on a silhouette in the dark, up on the low roof of the tool shed. Someone had _seen_ that shameful display. And Goro would make them _pay_.

At least the dark hid his flush, his twisted expression. “Excuse me?” he called up, in his most _pleasant_ voice. “What, exactly, are you doing on the roof?” It was the kind of innocently poised question that knew the answer, the guy on the roof was breaking the rules, and Goro would oh so happily rat him out for it.

But, calmly, the stranger responded: “I was painting the sunset.”

That answer threw him off. Goro looked around himself. It didn’t _sound_ like the stranger was joking. “It is … dark out.”

He could see movement, as if the stranger was nodding. “Yes, yes. It took me a while.”

Goro blinked. None of that made sense. “Are you … stuck? Do you need help?”

A chuckle. “Oh, no. I simply desired to savour the moment. The stars are quite beautiful tonight, aren’t they? There is so little artificial light here, so it is easy to take in their radiance.”

Brows furrowed, Goro found himself looking up at the sky - realising with a strange, melancholy pang that it was indeed dotted with tiny points of light. Oh.

He licked his lips, and swallowed, staring. How long since -

No. No! He shook his head and got back to himself. Was that the twisted plan of the weird stranger? To lure him into complicity by aesthetic? Tough luck, Goro had a duty to fulfil, and that was making sure nobody would ever surprise him on a roof behind his house again. “Still, is it _safe_ to be up on the roof?”

Akira would have instantly recognised the threat those words held, and responded to it. Even subconsciously, most people would have. But not the strange guy on the roof. He seemed entirely relaxed, his voice calm and undeterred. “I have never run into any trouble along my way.”

The audacity! Goro narrowed his eyes at him. Talking to someone sitting up on a roof was really awkward, but someone _had_ to be the voice of reason here. “What you are doing is called trespassing on campus property, are you not aware of that? And you have just openly admitted to multiple offenses, too.” Goro only needed his name, and his class, and these antics would be a thing of the past.

Usually, Goro could place most peers, at least on sight. It was crucial to know where to place his rivals, though most did not even come close. But he couldn't make the stranger's facial features out clearly, and felt like he would have memorised such a voice.

“If enjoying the excellent view and capturing the unique perspective of this place is forbidden, then in the name of art, I am afraid I must break even rules!” The stranger's calm tone took on an intensity that Goro found oddly magnetic even when it made him seethe. “A second on this roof, and you would understand, I am certain. My heart has been captured, and so, I cannot help but return.”

Goro couldn’t find any words aside from a slightly hysterical: “How did you even get up there?!”

“Oh? A ladder.” As if it was the simplest thing in the world. Which it was, but still! The _audacity._

“So, what you are telling me is, not only do you keep on trespassing, but you, what, carry a ladder all the way here simply to sit on the roof and see the stars? They’re the same from down here, you know.”

“They are not, “ the stranger informed him serenely.

There was no arguing with a mad man, Goro reckoned, but he still couldn’t keep quiet. “Rules and regulations exist for a reason. Without them, society would crumble.”

“Oh, I agree,” the stranger called down. “One could think of them as the spine, so to say, but the true beating heart that keeps humanity thriving? It truly must be art. Oh, what an image! I must thank you for such inspiration. Talking to you is quite stimulating.”

Goro could have thought of a million different words for this particular talk. For a moment, he just kept squinting, as the stranger seemed to murmur to himself, quietly enough for the words never to reach Goro. It seemed as if he was in all actuality writing something about their argument down.

Suddenly, Goro felt the day weighing on him. “Look, it’s exhausting to hold a conversation like this - so I must ask you to come down here at once. Maybe I won’t have to report you, then.” It was a sensible and even quite generous offer.

“But how could I, now that I am so inspired?” That dramatic artist type! “Would you wish to join me and further discuss matters? Don't you find it so very intriguing when such different world views clash? I am certain, too, that the view may enchant you as much as it did me.”

Who _was_ this person? “What is your name?” he asked sharply. Not that Goro expected to get one, but it would be good for -

“Kitagawa Yusuke. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Goro couldn’t say the same, but his manners were stronger than his disdain, as always. “The pleasure is mine,” he called back, smile aching. Pleasure was the _last_ thing he'd call whatever this … talk was. Nevermind that, he also failed to match the name to a face – and Goro was absolutely certain he could not have forgotten such an odd personality. Which led to one obvious and even more grating conclusion. “Kitagawa-kun, do you even - are you even a student here?”

Once more, the reply was instantaneous, and completely unfazed. “I am not,” Kitagawa informed him. “But my own campus offers not a place unique enough as to make a difference compared to my peers.”

A trespasser from a different university altogether. Goro clutched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he had ended up here. Having this discussion. Keeping his campus safe from rampant artists carrying ladders through the night.

But at least, with rapid relief, Goro realised Yusuke had no idea who he was. There was no worry for his stainless reputation to be disrupted by a moment of weakness in the backyard at night. That alone took some tension from his shoulders, and he _tried_ to be patient.

“Is that so. Listen - I do not mean to be rude, but I wish to return to my - homework. And I cannot leave until I know the rules established and undisrupted. So, if you would do me the favour of leaving that spot -”

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you. But I am afraid I cannot leave until I have seen a shooting star.”

Oh, for the love of -

Goro rounded the shed, finding the ladder standing there, and the part of him that he could never get rid of whispered to take ladder and let the stranger _rot_ up there. But of course, instead, he climbed up the ladder himself. It felt strange to climb higher, and higher - he hesitated before he pulled himself onto the roof. Was this safe?

Did intention matter when _he_ was about to break the rules? What was he even trying to achieve? Physically hauling him down? Maybe Kitagawa was bigger, more muscular -

But Goro couldn’t back down _now._ He’d lose face.

Gritting his teeth, Goro took the leap, the flat roof rough under his hands. He inched forwards until he felt safe enough to stand, found himself woozy, and sank back down into a crouch.

Squinting, Goro realised the stranger was lanky, a little too thin for his long limbs. And he was smiling, as Goro could make out so closely. “So you have decided to join me!”

“I have decided to get you down.” Somehow.

Getting more comfortable, Kitagawa folded his arms on a big sketchbook in his lap, a small bag of supplies next to him. He inched a little to the side, utterly unfazed by Goro's words. “I would not want to keep you, but I cannot abandon my post now, when the night sky is so clear. So if you wish to join me after all – don't you think it is a sight so very magnificent?”

It looked like they were high up in a place they shouldn’t be. “This is a terrible idea.” He slowly lowered himself down into sitting cross-legged, which made his heart calm down a little more.

A shooting star. This guy insisted on chasing a shooting star.

What a joke. It was futile, and useless. All his life, Goro had stared up at the sky and willed one against its bleak, uncaring backdrop. And of course, the sky hadn’t listened. One free wish would have been all he had asked for, but no.

There was a reason he never tilted his head to the sky anymore. His neck had gone stiff from doing it too much when he’d been younger and still - _believed._

Pressing his lips together, he inched closer to where Kitagawa sat, feeling out of his depth and slightly hysterical. He’d just wanted to take out the damn trash. “If you’re waiting for a shooting star, for some inspiration or whatever, it won’t _come._ We’d be here all night.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Kitagawa said softly, almost too soft. “What is your name? You never did tell me.”

Ah. Before Goro could clamp down on it and refuse, his traitorous manners already had him tell Kitagawa. Well, at least they didn’t do first names, like _some_ people he really did not care to think about, right now.

“Akechi-kun - you are very pleasant company.”

Was he now? Because to Goro, he had done nothing but threaten, insult, and get annoyed by that damn artist on the roof. Which said a lot, in a way, and some strange feeling compelled him to inch a little closer, and just … sit there. Almost next to each other.

Goro wasn’t a stranger to perking up at any sign of ‘kindness’. He hated that it made him feel guilty for being so prickly in the first place.

Slaughtered with kindness, his own favourite weapon.

“You are too kind,” he replied through his teeth. And then forced himself to relax his clenched jaw. A little patience. “I do not wish to antagonise you, either. But certainly you must see why, as a student of this university, I have a problem with an outsider breaking our rules as if they do not matter?”

Maybe reason would work on Kitagawa now, and they could end their feud. Then Goro would be pleasant, and feel less guilty. And after they'd say their goodbyes and he'd never have to think of this again.

… was it a feud if only one party was aware of it happening?

“But could reason truly strike down a heart that knows its aim?” Kitagawa replied, but his voice lacked its luster, and grew softer still. “This place does mean a lot to me. I would be very glad if you would keep silent about my escapades, Akechi-kun.” He pulled his legs close, wrapping his arms around them, head tilted to the sky.

Goro wanted to tell him it was useless. Would bring him nothing beyond an aching neck and disappointment. There was no _point_ in looking to the night sky. It hurt to see someone so foolishly naïve, and Goro figured it would be kinder to crush Kitagawa's hope before it could cut him open from the inside. “No matter how high you climb, or how hard you look and wish. There’s no point.” Goro cut his gaze to the sky, glaring at its friendly twinkling. “You won’t find a shooting st-”

He cut off, speechless. Beside him, Kitagawa gasped softly, his body unfurling as he went to his knees and reached out a hand. His fingers strained without hesitation, as if he could catch and hold that little burst of light that had streaked across the sky, for a split-second.

An actual shooting star.

“Marvellous,” Kitagawa gasped.

Goro closed his eyes against the unwelcome light, but for another second, he saw it imprinted against his eyelids, an insistent echo, before it was gone. _Please,_ he thought, all his desperate wishes of a whole life clambering up his throat, into his mind, tangling into a confusing mess. The only words that rose from the mess were _Let my existence not have been for nothing._

He swallowed, hard.

“How absolutely wonderful,” Kitagawa exclaimed, voice wavering with his emotion. He was _so_ genuine. Goro had the feeling even if he tried to lie, he would be terrible at it. “Akechi-kun, you must be my good luck charm!”

Oh no. Oh, no no no. A good luck charm? Him? “I am afraid I cannot offer you such services,” he replied primly. His heart was still thudding in his chest. He couldn’t believe he had -

Truly, now? After all this time?

Goro didn’t need a shooting star now. He had made his own fate. He was doing _fine._

“I will commemorate this moment in a piece! Ah, I can see it before me! At last, inspiration has struck me!” Kitagawa whirled on him, his eyes wide and bright as they caught the small light of the single street lamp behind them. “I cannot begin to thank you! All my worries, for naught after all! I must get to work before it slips from my grasp!”

Huh?!

Kitagawa hurriedly packed his sketchbook, got to his feet and strode towards the ladder with vigor. A moment later, he disappeared back down to solid ground.

Goro had reached his goal without ever doing anything. Inching slowly towards the roof’s edge, he tried to follow, almost hoping Kitagawa had run off completely in his hurry. But no, he was lingering, waiting for him.

At least Kitagawa was smart enough not to remark on Goro’s struggle to get a foot on the ladder at all, and then to make a fast _and_ safe way down. By the time his feet hit the asphalt, all he could do was exhale in relief.

That was why human beings were not be supposed to loiter around on rooftops.

“You wouldn’t have needed to wait on me,” he remarked, finally realising he had used the wrong angle all along. Common sense, of course, would not work. But art might. “I would not want to make you linger and risk your inspiration slipping from you like grains of sand.”

“Oh, do not worry.” Kitagawa’s mood seemed to be stellar, and his sudden calm was impossible to disturb. “Both our engaging conversation and the image of the shooting star are very clear in my heart. Besides, I would not want to leave you with the task of putting away the ladder.”

Putting it away?!

Goro watched, trying to process this, as Kitagawa took it up and folded it to a smaller size. Then he rounded the toolshed and - Goro made a small noise of contempt realising that Kitagawa did not _bring_ a ladder, no, he _stole_ it from the very shed. It was _worse_ than sitting on a roof. “Did you crack that door open?” he asked sharply.

Brushing his hands off at his pants, Kitagawa looked up, the picture of innocence. “No, the lock is broken.”

An easy fix, then. Goro would simply have to report the broken lock and Kitagawa’s shenanigans would be history. “I see.”

Again, the artist did not pick up on any threat. Goro did not even need to hide his underlying intentions, as he usually did, impeccably. It was almost relaxing.

“Now, I shall be off! Meet me back here again in two nights, and I shall share with you the result of my work!” Kitagawa bowed, and finally, hurried off. Goro looked after him, stunned.

_I'll just report the broken lock and never show up._

But that made his heart seize uncomfortably, thinking of the honest awe in Kitagawa’s voice. Damn it all.

Sighing, Goro at last turned back, slipping back into his building.

Well, for whatever that was worth, it was like all his tension had bled away from him. Opening his door he realised he’d left the window open this whole time, and shivering, he closed it, dialled up the heating, and shedded his jacket only to climb under his covers.

A shooting star.

An actual, real shooting star. Not that it _mattered._ Not that he gave a damn. But they _did_ exist. Even to someone like him.

He curled up into a small ball, trying not to wonder why it could not have given him some hope sooner - even though it would have been futile, because his life had turned out the way it had, either way.

No, he didn’t want to think of that. Eyes closed, face resting against the pillow, he did not bother with lube or anything. He slipped his hand past the hem of his pants like a secret, wriggling free only to give himself some room. Sighing quietly as he stroked himself, slow and careful. The dark settled around him gently, like wings, and he sighed again as he shifted, adjusting his position. He could feel himself getting hard, mind still carefully blank of thought, of fantasy.

It was easier that way.

“Arsene,” he whispered, trying not to feel foolish.

Trying not to think of letters or strange boys on rooftops, not to think of bruised rivals. Only the burn of those eyes and the soft embrace of deep black wings. “Arsene,” he whispered, again, slicking his thumb with precum and trying to spread it as he tried to go a little faster, to get himself more slick. Whining slightly he shifted again, restless now, shimmying further out of his pants. “Come on,” he gasped. “Please. _Please._ ”

If he could see a shooting star for the first time in his life, then why wouldn’t he get to see Arsene again, someone who had called him so warmly, so naturally, his cherished one.

Was it so wrong to think he was worthy of all that? Worthy of wishes painted into the night sky, and warm embraces? Worthy of love?

“Arsene,” he whispered again, his voice so choked he faltered in his movements.

And then he heard it, a strange laugh, guttural and wrong. Apprehension made him sit up, eyes wide. A shiver ran down his spine as the laughter swelled around him, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, always on the move.

“Who -” he began, despite his fear, but cut off as a pang of blazing light brought the strange laughter to an abrupt halt.

As quietly as Arsene had slipped into his room, like a true gentleman thief, as blazingly he found a new figure appear in light and sound. Goro took in the unfamiliar appearance, almost blinded by the white. And because he was so panicked, and it had been such a long day, his manners failed him. “You aren’t Arsene.”

Whoever stood before him now, in yet another strange dream, did not seem deterred. “Indeed I am not. I apologise.”

Goro did not know why he had that impression, but it seemed the stranger with the flaring cape was a little out of breath … ?

“Hello,” he replied evenly, wondering when he’d ever get to greet strange monsters into his room without his pants down his hips. “Please .. forgive my manners. I had .. expected someone else.” He couldn’t entirely shake the echo of that strange laugh. Should he ask about it … ?

But his thoughts were deterred entirely when instead, his nighttime visitor stepped towards his bedside and went down on one knee, bowing his head, one hand placed over his chest and the letters emblazoned there. “Master. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Robin Hood, and it is my honour to finally meet you face to face.”

Master. Goro’s eyes widened. He bunched the blanket around himself to feel a little more ready to greet someone, as his mind attempted to pierce together what this might mean. Arsene had spoken of Akira being his master. Did this mean … whatever Arsene was to Akira, Robin Hood was … ?

“The … pleasure is mine. I am … a little confused.” Strangely, Goro felt like he could be honest. “Not much of what I have been witnessing last night or now makes sense to me.”

“I can only imagine it might not,” Robin agreed, voice sympathetic. He was still bowing in utter respect, a gallant figure fit to be a hero. Goro bit his lip.

There were so many things he yearned to know.

“What, exactly … is our connection? Why am I your master? I figured I was dreaming, but by now, it is hard to tell. Would you help me make sense of it?”

“Nothing would be a greater honour to me. I understand your burning need for answer.” Robin rose, reaching out gently, carefully. Goro watched, wary, but did not pull away when big hands wrapped around his own and held them with a touch even more gentle than expected. “I am a creature born from your heart. Your heart beats for mine, as does mine for yours. I am attuned to everything you yearn for, every desire keeping you up at night.”

Goro wished he could accept such words without his face flushing. “So you are my … ?”

“Persona, is what we are called.” Robin gently squeezed his hands. “Our circumstances of meeting are most unusual, but I am grateful to have manifested. Your true heart has lain chained and unseen too long.”

His true heart. Chained and unseen was a _good_ thing, considering his truth. Goro looked up again, at this kind persona looking at him, pledging allegiance. Claiming to be a creature born from the very truth of his heart. Gallant, bright, and heroic.

It did not feel like the _truth._ Something was amiss, something dark and sinister, and he knew, but Goro was too afraid to ask nonetheless. So he accepted it, simply like this, swallowing his doubt. “And what if I wish to stay the way I am?”

Robin touched a gentle fingertip against Goro’s forehead. “The truth your mind tells, and the truth of your heart are often quite different.”

Goro laughed wryly. It wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. “Forgive my bluntness, but that is not exactly reassuring to me.”

“You cannot be blunt with me,” Robin replied, not smiling per say, but Goro could hear fondness in his voice. “Words rise from emotion, and I am attuned to all you might feel.”

“That is not as reassuring as you might think it to be,” Goro muttered, mind reeling. But … it wasn’t a bad feeling.

When he looked at Robin, a manifestation of his heart …

He tried to quell whatever part of him whispered it was a lie - nothing more - and sighed. “I saw a shooting star today.” Whyever he felt the need to say that. But there was someone he could tell, right? Someone who knew the significance of it without expecting anything else.

A part of him. Perhaps he _was_ losing his mind. But Goro could not mind if this was what came of it.

“Quite the lovely sight,” Robin agreed, indulgently.

And somehow, Goro withered, surrendering any attempt of playing it cool. “I was hoping … last night, I - was hoping …”

Perhaps the true magic of a being born from your own heart was the fact that Goro did not entirely formulate the truth before arms settled around him, before he could sink against a broad chest that radiated warmth. A part of Goro still missed Arsene’s presence, and yet, this was -

It felt the closest he had ever come to the definition of the word _home._

“I will never push you further than you are capable of,” Robin promised, folding his big, strong body around Goro. “I will protect you, and heed your call if there is anything you need of me. Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to stand still when you deny yourself all you yearn for. But for tonight, master, I ask of you to rest. We have time.”

There was something in Robin’s voice that made Goro tense, but the big hand settling on his back soothed it. Perhaps those were his frayed nerves, from earlier.

Closing his eyes, he found there was another question still. “Why was Arsene here last night?” He refrained from asking whether he’d see Arsene again, but had a feeling the notion was understood nonetheless.

Robin sounded both wistful and amused. “Desire is a peculiar thing.”

  


\---

  


Once more, Goro woke relaxed, despite all the world had tossed him the day before.

Drowsy, he sat up. There was no sign Robin had been real, nothing physical left behind. Aside from an echo, strengthening him from within. The storm, ever-raging in his chest, in his mind, had calmed. As if he was still settled, inside himself. _Home,_ he thought again, sleepy.

As if such a thing could be found inside of oneself.

Goro wished he could have stayed curled up, asleep, drowsy between waking and sleeping. But his second alarm rang, an alarm that never needed to ring, and he shot upright coming back to himself. Morning practice. Right. Cursing the five precious minutes he had lost in his ever-assuring routine, he got dressed, and with his toothbrush in his mouth, he couldn't resist flipping his notebook open.

If he wrote it down, documented it all, captured it in writing - it would feel more real. And if this feeling that was so close to peace was real, maybe, he could hold onto it.

He so desperately wished to hold onto it.

And so he scribbed down all Robin had told him, down to the details. Neat and orderly.

But he felt this _urge_ again. His detective's wit. And so, next to the bruises, he noted that strange laughter. As he looked down at the page, a sense of dread crept through him so strong he slammed the book shut, firmly wrapped the strap around its cover, and shoved it into his desk drawer.

Realising he was dripping saliva and toothpaste onto his floor, he went upright, closed his mouth, and put all thoughts out of his head.

_Morning practice. Morning practice._

It was all perfectly normal. He made it out of the door on time, realising he had neglected to copy Akira's notes and resolving he would until the afternoon. It couldn't be much, not at all.

His life was normal, on track, just as every day. The dread had eased with the rhythm of his steps carrying him certainly onward.

But as if he had left it there on his desk, there was nothing more than an echo left of the feeling that had filled him before. Goro placed a hand onto his chest.

_I want to see Robin again._

Or Arsene.

Perhaps, tonight. Whether he was losing his mind or this was real, he wished so, so badly to feel this way again. Held, cherished. Whole. It was a yearning so strong it made him stumble. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goro made a friend! Yay!  
> In fact this chapter took me so long because I meant to do a combined Goro and Akira persona meeting chapter, but Goro had other plans. And then instead of finding Makoto, Yusuke wrestled his way into this story. So I guess he's here to stay! He gave me such a headache, but I also love the weird dynamic they have going on.
> 
> Anyways! Feelings, shooting stars, and Goro finally met Robin. Next up, Akira. And maybe someday we'll get some actual fencing in here - I know, it's wild.


	5. A single fissure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Akira talks too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter tossed my plot over entirely, again. Oh well. What a rollercoaster ride we have here.
> 
> May need to edit in the morning again since it's really late, but I wanted to get this chapter out there!

"Woah there."  
Akira steadied Goro before he could go flying. Now that was a new experience. Seeing him literally trip all over himself. Was he doing okay? His form at training had been a little stiff lately, which Akira might have imagined, but …

Right now, the eyes that cut up to him seemed somewhat panicked. Goro didn't relax either realising it was him, he only smoothed his emotions out and neatly tucked the warring emotions away. Biting back a sigh, Akira let go of his arm.  
What would it be like, to know Goro well enough to get to _see_ him? Not having to fight for every scrap of honesty and analysing him like a game of chess in which every wrong move could cost him the whole game.  
He wondered if it was even possible, to really know Goro. And how long that would take.

It didn't matter, Akira _wanted_ it.   
"I'm fine," Goro muttered, still "Just - a little lost in thought.” His gaze cut up, sharp. “Didn’t you walk into a glass panel just last week? Are you really one to judge?”

Woah, what hostile vibes. Akira lifted his hands. “Hey, now, no need to roast me. They shouldn’t polish them so well.”

Goro masked a chuckle as a cough in a way that sounded so obviously fake Akira felt like he was messing up on purpose just so Akira _knew_ he was laughing all while Goro still looked innocent.

His taste in men really was terrible. “Anyways, you’re headed to practice, too, right? Let’s, uh, walk.”

They’d done this from time to time, it just tended to happen when you bumped into each other headed to the same destination most days of the week. But usually not like this, leaving them to to cross a whole building and the courtyard. That was a long time.

_Long enough to ask him out._

Aw, damn. Curse his impulsive thoughts. That _wasn’t the plan._ But the idea always came to him when Akira caught Goro alone for long enough to make an elegant segue, which meant that his brain buzzed with all the pick-up lines and smoothtalking all while severing its connection to his vocal chords and making sure his whole body clamped up.

Damn.

He needed to save this. “I’m not gonna ask you out.” Oh, that was … that was bad. He hadn't meant to say that, either.

Goro looked at him, clearly startled, a small frown to his lips. “I do believe you simply asked to walk together. A way which we both would walk either way. Are _you_ fine, Akira?”

Nope. Hell no. “I had a long night.”

Why did _that_ startle Goro more than what he’d said before? Interesting. “Did you now?”

There had _almost_ been a stutter there. Or maybe that was wishful thinking? Akira chanced a glance over at Goro. “You, too?” he asked as casually as possible. He even hooked his thumbs into his pockets. The very picture of casual.

The kind of casual that signalled to his conversation partner that he hadn’t spent half the night wondering how to open up to said conversation partner. He totally hadn't angsted over how to lower his defenses first and with minimal risk to his own heart and ridicule. And he also totally hadn't gotten _very_ distracted as the night wore on.

“I had a very interesting encounter,” Goro said, startling Akira from his thoughts of Arsene.

Was he - ?! Did he? Akira had to play it cool. It was probably just coincidence But the way Goro had put weight on ‘interesting’ … “Touchy subject, or … ?”

“Just a contained amount of rule-breaking that I could not stand for,” Goro replied smoothly.

Of course, where would they be if they ever broke a single rule. Someone might accidentally have _fun._

“You think that enlightens me to your encounter, but it really doesn’t.”

That small smile was definitely smug. “Very well.”

But that was just it! This was their dance. Cryptic little jabs traded back and forth, speaking without saying much. It was fun, and Akira couldn’t say he wasn’t into a little teasing, but … Akira stopped walking before his mind had really caught up to what instinct decided was right.

“Is there a reason you’re delaying us?” Goro asked, pushing his arm in the air so his sleeve could ride up and reveal his wristwatch, because _of course._

No time like the present. “Hey. We should talk. I mean, you and me. We should talk.” So the words could have been better chosen, but his heart was in the right place, so Akira gave an enthusiastic nod. Maybe they could grab a coffee and just chat, and hell, if Akira had to drag his angsty backstory out in the open first, they would. And they'd build trust from there.

Unfortunately, Goro seemed entirely unimpressed. “We are talking right now. Unless you think there is something else going on … ?”

“No, I mean -” Akira tugged at his bangs and exhaled. “I mean, _talk._ Really talk. Do you … get what I mean … ?”

Goro looked puzzled, and then, something very close to horror dawned on his face. “Wait, are you asking me … ? Is that some kind of code? Is this a ‘netflix and chill’ kind of thing?” He took a step back. “Because I’m not interested.”

Akira _really_ hadn’t meant it that way. “No! That’s not! I wouldn’t want to -” Straight-faced lie, but okay, he’d allow himself that one for his own sanity, because in the back of his mind with the force of a landslide he was realising he'd just been all-out rejected. “I’m not interested in - I meant _talk._ Just, maybe, hanging out. Talking about … our lives. We are rivals. Rivals should know each other, right?”

“Should they?” Goro asked, still looking withdrawn, as if he’d tasted something sour.

How had it even gotten this far?! It had been only _minutes_ and Akira had gotten rejected without ever confessing and potentially tanked their status quo. “Or as … friends.” So maybe he’d been rejected, but that meant he could get over his crush, and he was still interested in knowing Goro. “I’d like to know more about you. Without any intentions. Just as friends.”

“Oh.” Goro seemed a little uncertain what to do with that. Akira decided the safest bet was to keep walking, which at least seemed to take some tension from Goro as he fell into step quietly.

“If you want. You can think it over? Sorry for, uh, being weird about it. No harm intended.”

“And no offense taken,” Goro said quietly, though somehow, Akira felt like he was still hiding under enough layers to leave Akira in the dark about what he truly through about all this.

“I am …” Goro flexed his gloves fingers, gaze slightly to the side. “... really busy.”

Oh.

Oh.

“... yeah.” Akira's voice sounded rough, but he didn't _sound_ as if he'd just gotten stabbed in the heart. Good job. “You have a lot on your plate, right?”

“Precisely,” Goro said, relieved at the opening. It was a little painful how quickly he jumped at it. “You understand, right? I do consider you my friend, Akira, but between the school work, the training, retaining my scholarship, and the occasional detective work … I don’t think I can commit to more than what we already have. Which I value greatly.”

Akira hadn’t even been friendzoned, which had the perks of gaining a friend.

He’d been rivalzoned.

“Yeah. That’s cool. I mean, I wasn’t even - I just thought maybe, an afternoon, or something -” Even just an hour of settling down somewhere and taking the time to talk openly. Honestly. Getting to know each other.

Anyone could make an hour for someone. If they deemed that person worth it.

Was it too late to fake an explosive case of diarrhea? Then again, Akira needed to yell at his friends for letting him do this.

“I’m glad you understand,” Goro said pleasantly, throwing the last picturesque rose on Akira’s casket, tying a neat bow on this shitshow of a conversation, and handing Akira the parcel to carry it alone. “I hope it won’t change our friendship?”

“Of course not,” Akira hurried to say, because, what else was he supposed to say? He had never felt a single romantic notion towards this man in his life, and was a very understanding acquaintance who had been called a friend to let him down gently.

Rivalzoned. “Oh, would you look at that. We’re here. Actually, Ann’s got my glove, so I’m just gonna -” Akira saluted, which he regret instantly, and ducked away from this conversation, taking the other hallway to the girl’s changing room and hammering on the door _praying_ one of his friends would answer.

Maybe.

It was Okumura Haru who opened the door the tiniest bit, looking at him more confused than distrustful. At least it wasn’t Nijima, Akira would have probably been smited by her fiery gaze. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. “Are Ann or Shiho around?”

“Akira, is that you?” Ann called from the depths of the room.

“I must admit I’m a little confused what’s going on,” Okumura said, which was a remarkably patient way to react to this. “I don’t think it’s proper for you to be here.”

Akira fiddled with the strap of his bag because he’d just been rejected in every way a human could be rejected by their former crush and he didn’t have the wits to explain he wasn’t a creep. “It’s an emergency. Could you maybe send Ann out for me?”

He could _feel_ Goro give him a dubious glance from the opposite hall, lingering before the door, eavesdropping. Why wouldn’t Goro just go inside? _He_ was the creep.

“Please,” he added, strangled. Something in his expression must have gotten through to Okumura, because she nodded and disappeared. A second later, not Ann, but Shiho opened the door wider. “Akira, what the fuck.”

“Herejectedme.” There, he’d said it. Now it was real. Fuck.

“ _What._ ”

“Twice.” Akira laughed, and it didn’t sound all too healthy. “He’s still staring at me.”

Shiho didn’t think twice, with all authority of a captain, she called: “Ladies, are you decent? This is an emergency.”

Which was how several exclamations later, Akira was pulled into the girl’s changing room and mercifully out of sight.

He did feel weird. Good thing his existential crisis distracted him from that, though.

“What the hell, Shiho?” Ann asked, coming over with big strides.

“Apparently Akira got rejected!” Shiho gestured wildly.

“What?! But he’s always eating Akira up with his eyes?! Akira, what happened?!”

Suddenly, achingly, Akira wished he’d just chosen to signal to Mishima and Ryuji to wait on him after Goro left the boy's locker.

_They_ would’ve just been sympathetic. Ryuji would’ve patted his back, said “Sucks, man” and trashtalked Goro, and that would've been it.

Why had he allowed Shiho and Ann to sink in their fangs? They wanted to _analyse._ The wanted _facts._

“Akira, how in the - it’s 7 fucking a.m., how did you manage something that you postponed for the past two semesters?!”

“Talent?” Akira asked, strangled.

“Oh, no.” Ann went to her knees in front of him and took his hands. “Maybe you misunderstood?”

“‘I’m not interested’?!” Akira fired back, feeling hysterical.

Ann and Shiho both winced. Okumura was watching the whole scene and looked distinctly uncomfortable with witnessing his downfall. Akira felt very sympathetic. He felt very uncomfortable witnessing his downfall, too.

“I’m so sorry. But you can be friends - ?”

“I tried to ask him to hang out. _Casually._ No! I got rivalzoned. Man, fuck. Honesty is cancelled forever. That was bullshit. You know, I feel like I understand his whole deal better now. At least we got to bond that way!”

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” Shiho cursed. “Akira, here.” She offered him an energy bar and water bottle with lemon slices bobbing inside.

Akira accepted it gratefully and gulped down the water first before he tore into the energy bar. Yeah, that was better.

Ann yanked out her phone. “I’m texting the boys!”

Shiho smacked the back of her head. “They’re probably already in the gym, we’re running late. Akira, do you need me to get a case of explosive diarrhea and you’re the only one who can accompany me to my room?”

Shiho understood him. Maybe this hadn’t been such a mistake after all. But Akira only shook his head. “No, I can make it. I feel like stabbing something.”

“You can challenge him and stab Akechi!” Ann exclaimed brightly.

“I am so proud of you,” Shiho muttered, and then her sharp gaze cut back to Akira. “What do you need? After this, I mean.”

Akira took a deep breath. And another swig of the lemon water. “To get absolutely shitfaced. Or to set something on fire.”

“We’re not doing that,” Ann said. “Remember last time?”

“Uhm -” Okumura began, and they all startled, which in turn made her seem even more shy, but she stood her ground. It was a quality that showed in her fencing - her composure was unwavering, as was her will. She was a formidable opponent, and the only one who hadn't filed out and joined training yet. “I am sorry that I overheard this conversation, and don’t feel obligated to jump on this, but I do have an idea …?”

“An idea?” Akira asked weakly, secretly hoping it involved a lot of fire. Wasn’t she really rich? Maybe they could set a car on fire.

“Well, you see, I have been invited to a special day out in Destinyland. The park will be closed to the general public, but it felt like such a waste, for just Mako-chan and me … ?”

Shiho cut a gaze at him while Ann tried to cut a gaze at Shiho, and Akira looked between them in rapid succession. Their system needed work, but they managed to all exchange the mandatory startled gazes communicating 'Wait, did we just get invited to Destinyland'.

“Perhaps it would take your mind off things? I am sorry … that your heart has been broken.” Acknowledging it so bluntly made the fresh wound ache but Akira appreciated her compassion. It didn’t feel strange from her, but respectful and genuine.

“It’s nothing cotton candy and riding rollercoasters until I puke couldn’t fix, I’m sure,” he said, physically _feeling_ the way Ann and Shiho got excited next to him.

“But, wouldn't it be rather expensive?” Shiho asked, her voice a little tight. She attended on a sports scholarship, not one of the families with actual money.

“Oh,” Okumura waved the thought away like an annoying fly. “I wouldn't offer if I didn't intend to take care of it.”

Shiho looked almost as if she was ready to argue, but Ann burst out first: “Can we bring the other boys, too? It’d feel like such a waste …”

“Of course! The more, the merrier!” Okumura clapped her hands together. Ann squealed and jumped into the air, almost knocking Shiho off her feet when she tossed herself at her stunned best friend.

Akira felt himself grin – he couldn't help it. Holy shit.

“But we do need to get going for now …” Haru reminded them, though she was pink-cheeked at their joy. It was obvious how much she enjoyed making them all smile. “It will be strange enough to explain why Kurusu-kun has been with us … ?”

“Akira! You need to change!” Ann called, jabbing a finger at him.

“I am a very shy creature,” Akira told her primly. “Go on ahead. Actually, I think I'll just get back to the boy's locker … ?”

“Oh, _please,_ I’ve seen you naked,” Shiho scoffed, but she turned to go either way.

“Those were baby pictures!” Akira called after her, indignant. Ann followed with her laughte rringing in her wake, every step a bounce. Okumura waited, offering him another smile when it was just the two of them left. “Things will work out fine, I am sure.”

It was just an empty phrase, but somehow, from her, it was actually reassuring. Akira had no trouble giving her a small smile back. “Even if it doesn't, I'll still go to Destinyland.”

That made her laugh. “I am glad you can see it so positively. If you wish to, I'd love to face you during practice. But now I believe you should hurry. I'll excuse us both, so do not worry about that.”

An angel had blessed his life. Akira didn't even get to thank her properly before she was gone, and for now, he decided to hurry back and actually get changed.

At least the world felt less like it was ending now. Maybe just a small zombie apocalypse and he got a cool dagger to go with it. And that dagger was made from cotton candy.

_Nice._

 

They spent the majority of the day flipping out over Destinyland. It was almost easy to forget the reason this had all come about, because nobody really bothered to remind Akira aside from his own brain. They clustered together in his room, Mishima already looking up the park with Ann and Ryuji hanging off his shoulders and exclaiming at every ride they wanted to go for, while Shiho kept check and already made bets which ride would make who puke.

By the time Akira got a little restless and couldn't immerse himself in all that any longer, she abandoned her list, slammed the laptop shut so fast she almost broke Mishima's fingers, and declared a Mario Kart tournament.

Now _that_ took his mind off things. By the end of it, his pride lay in tatters at his feet, and everyone had betrayed each other in ways that would end lesser friendships.

It was good. It felt good. Still, when they agreed to part for the night, Akira felt a small sense of dread. He didn't really feel the whole being alone with his thoughts thing, but he smiled and joked accordingly as everyone filtered out.

Everyone except Ann, who just closed the door. Akira hadn't even noticed the small bag she'd brought along and picked up now. Sneaky. “Turn around.”

He bit his tongue for any and all comments as he heard the sound of clothes against skin while Ann changed, merrily, and decided he'd join the party instead. They switched into pajamas in silence and Ann clapped her hands as she faced him, grin on her face. “It's cuddle time.”

Or something like it. Here was the thing about them: Ann knew his ugly and his painful, but she didn't insist on it. She waited for him to open up, and right now, she allowed him a break and nothing else.

They squeezed into his bed together, facing each other, giggling as they adjusted the way they were lying.

“Now's the time for any confessions,” Ann breathed and giggled harder.

“This was all a ruse and I'm actually in passionate love with you,” Akira dead-panned and got swatted at for his troubles.

They hitched the blanket up higher and Ann knocked her forehead against his chest. “You wish.”

With a sigh, Akira settled an arm around her. “Oh, I do.”

She was warm, and steady. He closed his eyes even though his body was high-strung and his thoughts were racing.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked him, in the quiet, in this safe and warm cocoon under the blanket together.

Akira felt himself smile, a little. “Just keep going. Nothing really changed, except I know where I stand now.”

Didn't that sound so neat and simple? Logic was all the way with him, now his heart … that was a different matter.

“We got your back,” Ann sighed, and snuggled closer. “And we're going to Destinyland ...” Now she sounded real drowsy, and Akira held her until her breathing evened out. Until he knew she was asleep, and burying his nose in her hair, gods did he wish he could do the same.

He was grateful for Ann's presence, but somehow, it trapped him, too. He didn't want to disturb her sleep and lay perfectly still, which only made the thoughts in his mind roar louder, more viciously. There was a wound on his heart he had not prodded at yet, or even attempted to dress, and frankly wished he wouldn't need to acknowledge at all.

To be so thoroughly rejected – not as a lover, but as a _person,_ as a friend. He squeezed his eyes shut and found himself scooting backwards and out of bed after all, feet hitting the ground as he gasped for air as quietly as possible.

That was right, air. He stumbled to the window and cracked it, leaning his forehead against the cool glass as a little night air ran through his hair. Akira exhaled, breath fogging the glass as he tried to empty his mind even when emotion rose inside him like bile, sour and insistent to be spat out into the world.

He put a hand over his mouth and tensed when he felt - _something._

Akira couldn’t put a word to it, more feeling than anything. There was no laughter, barely a shadow. But he _knew._

Dread pooled in him, as the shadows seemed to come alive around him.

The thing that scared him wasn’t the bruises, wasn’t the threat – Robin's words rang true and he believed them, believed his promise to keep him safe.

But Akira had no idea whether Ann would be dragged into all this, and that was a risk he couldn’t take.

In a split-second decision he spun, determined to march right out of his room - stopped by the velvet pool of shadows becoming a swirling mass towering before him, above him. “Hello again,” Loki said, quiet, a whisper, as if equally scared to stir Ann - or perhaps, Robin.

Akira swallowed, and was grateful when his voice didn’t waver. “Hello. I hadn’t expected you.” Not right now, at least. Not like this, not here.

Did he -

Was there so much – animosity?

“I decided to let myself in,” Loki purred, stepping closer. Akira’s back hit the wall and he cursed himself for giving ground, but it was hard not to - just looking at Loki made him a little bit dizzy. He closed his eyes, only to have them fly open again when he felt two big hands settle on his body, one splaying along his ribs, the other settling along his collarbone, fingers curling around his shoulder.

_Oh._

The touch of Loki's skin burned colder through his clothes than Robin's had, and Akira licked his dry lips and found himself wishing that danger wasn't such an intoxicating thing to him.

This proximity _screamed_ danger and Akira’s body was _reacting_ to it.

Maybe he was kinkshaming himself a little. “You seem in a less stabby mood this time,” he managed, voice only a little choked up. Hey, it was a success. “That's cool.”

“I came here only to thank you,” Loki whispered, leaning in so close he caged Akira against the wall.

“Thank me?” Akira breathed, confused and unsettled and feeling way too many emotions at once. This close, Loki smelled like black powder, like ash, like - ruin. It was a smell that made the healing bruises ache with memomry.

Loki’s hand wandered, splaying across his chest, directly above his beating heart with a soft pressure, just enough to make Akira aware of how hard his pulse was racing.

“For putting a fissure into my master’s heart. That little crack is all your doing, and I will fill it, stronger and harder than before. Thank you, Kurusu Akira.”

He liked his name a lot better from Robin.

Akira licked his lips, mind working miles an hour. “Your master?” He knew. Deep down, he did, had known all along. But maybe he didn’t want it to be the truth, because what would that leave him with?

The bruises on his neck, the rejection, and -

… and every fierce declaration of love Robin had ever granted him. Could Akira will him here … ? If he yearned enough to see Robin instead of Loki, would it make a difference?

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Loki’s fingers wandered up, and Akira tensed when they brushed the bruises. Not enough to hurt, but it seemed they both made sure to remember. “You already know. You have seen the truth in me, haven’t you? You have seen it in _him._ Should I tell you something, _Akira_?”

Somehow, Loki had this way of saying his name as if Akira was an inconvenience personally put onto this earth to make Loki’s existence worse.

“I’m not sure,” Akira replied, heart racing and racing on. Still no attack. “It really depends whether it's good news or bad news -” Any moment Loki would, no doubt, attack him.

But the touch at his throat stayed surprisingly gentle. Akira didn’t trust the peace, but his body reacted to _that,_ too, eyes falling shut as fingers trailed along his cheek.

“I always killed you too fast,” Loki said, the way a lover’s voice would fold around a confession. Perhaps it was that tone causing the goosebumps down Akira’s spine. His thumb brushed a lock from Akira’s temple, the nails of Loki's other hand set against his back like a threat, or a promise, or both – unmoving, for now. “You are much more fun to me alive, for now.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Akira wheezed, his breath running short from the proximity alone. It was – overwhelming.

“Silence,” Loki hummed, but he didn't sound as if he was displeased. “Don’t make me reconsider.”

“Not the intention,” Akira shot back, because he could not stay quiet to save his life. Literally. “I mean, whatever I did, I appreciate that you don’t want to strangle me to death anymore -” His mouth ran along with his mind. So many stressed out, witty lines he could say, and his mind decided to turn Loki's words over. A fissure in Goro's heart – how should Akira have done that, when truly, his own heart was -

Akira suddenly felt so weary. This excitement and thrill, the proximity, he’d _appreciate_ it in a different mindset. Maybe, potentially. It was scary as hell, but it wasn’t _just_ scary.

But right now - like this - he wished only to lean his forehead against someone solid, someone warm.

_Robin,_ he thought, and Loki hissed, nails digging into Akira’s back. Against his closed eyelids, Akira could feel a flash of light, and the room feeling fuller, once more.

“Loki,” Robin greeted, voice tight. “I see you have beaten me tonight.”

“As I always do,” Loki purred, grip on Akira tightening as if he were a prize. “Akira and I were just coming to an agreement, should that not be in your interest?”

Oddly, Akira could _feel_ Loki's skin grow warmer, and was close enough to feel a ripple of – agitation? His calm tone could not fool someone trapped between Loki and the damn wall.

“I am afraid it only makes me wonder what lies in your interest.” Robin's calm sounded … similarly forced. “Akira, are you alright?”

“Never been better,” he choked out, voice strangled, because it was such a lie and he didn’t know what he felt any longer.

Loki’s presence forced him to be strong, but Robin’s made him want to surrender and show everything inside of him that _wasn’t._

Apparently his distress was enough, because a second later, there was a shift and a sharp sound and Loki _flung_ himself around.

The room was lit by actual sparks flying as weapons clashed - Robin wielding his bow like a blade against an actual _burning_ sword.

“Would you kindly lower your weapon?” Robin asked through gritted teeth. He sounded perfectly polite still, but there was an urgency there that Akira selfishly hoped was for him, because Robin wanted to get to him. Because Robin _cared._

“It’s self-defense,” Loki replied easily, madness creeping back into his voice, twisting it gleefully. “Shouldn’t you start first?”

“I don’t have time for your games.”

In the face of that stand-off, and assuming it was to get through to him, Akira squeezed out from behind Loki and just, rounded him in a safe distance. With a glance towards him, Robin stepped away, bow disappearing as easy as a thought.

The burning sword sent eerie flickers along the wall as Loki seized them up, unmoving, every powerful muscle in his body coiled as if to attack.

Akira’s eyes darted to Ann, who seemed to sleep peacfully still. Maybe she couldn’t hear or see what was happening here … ? Maybe she'd only hear Akira talking to himself. Thank god she was a heavy sleeper.

“You know, it’s alright.” Loki rolled his shoulders, sword disappearing as well, so easily. His grin revealed rows of sharp teeth. “Can you feel the clock running, dear old friend? Are you ready for it, this time?”

“Your cruelty will not affect me,” Robin told him, but there was a tightness to his voice that made Akira step closer, as if he was the protector, when really he felt like a child hiding behind a parent.

“Only everything else will. Enjoy your time as long as you have it.” Loki rose to full height, eyeless attention finding Akira precisely - making him feel gazed at, _perceived,_ in ways that went beyond simple vision. “Let’s chat a little longer next time.”

And with that, he was gone, the shadows losing their life between a heartbeat and the next.

Akira exhaled, heavily. Robin tried to mask doing something similar, but Akira had always been perceptive.

“Are you alright?” Robin asked again, lowering two broad, safe hands on his shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”

Akira opened his mouth to speak, to fire the question back, to ask what Loki had meant with ticking clocks and being ready, but not a single sound escaped him. Instead, Akira took a simple step forward, and Robin made a soft, encouraging noise when Akira leaned his forehead against his chest.

“Not Loki,” he whispered, and his tears spilled over.

Akira had been so certain he _could_ hold it together. Maybe he would have – but Robin's presence and care was an invitation to let go, to be honest. And Akira felt too tired, too upset to cling to useless pride.

Goro did not want him, specifically, no matter which way. Not beyond their superficial dance that was so unsatisfying. And it _hurt._

“I am sorry,” Robin breathed, his arms closing around Akira. He sank to the ground and took Akira with him, who went soft and pliant with his sadness and let Robin cradle him like a child.

Hold him steady for everything inside him that wasn’t in this moment.

“Why -” Akira began, and it took him two attempts. “Why are you here - when -”

Did it make sense? Loki made sense, Loki with his hatred and cryptic messages.

But Robin? What did Robin do here, if not just keep a cruel flicker of hope alive?

“Mind and heart don’t always agree on a truth, but that does not make it any less of a truth,” Robin reassured him, in a calm and gentle voice, and cryptic as well. Of course.

Akira managed a strangled laugh, but it brought more tears with it as well.

Softly, Robin hummed. “Let go of your emotion, there is no shame in it. I am by your side, and I will faithfully remain so until your sleep, if that is your wish.”

It was.

Of course it was. “Please.” He did feel a little ridiculous, reaching up to wipe at his cheeks and asking for company. But it was easier to breathe.

Robin was here.

Loki had not explicitly tried to kill him.

That had to count for something, right?

Akira was ever the optimist.

The nagging feeling of wishing to soothe the tension from the encounter from Robin remained, so Akira allowed them both this – pressed against Robin's embrace and breathed.

Breathed until his tears dried and left him fatigued and aching, but – lighter than before. Breathed until he was so drowsy he barely registered Robin carrying him back to bed, carefully tucking him in next to Ann.

“Sleep well,” Robin whispered, breathing a soft kiss against Akira's temple, right where Loki's thumb had caressed it, before disappearing.

Akira sighed, so close to sleep -

When Ann, urgently, whispered behind him: “Akira.”

He pretended to be dead, but she shook his shoulder. “Akira!” It sounded important, so he grunted unwillingly.

“Why’s your persona so damn scary?!” she hissed.

And so his eyes flew open.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-duuuuun. Hoo boy. What's that, hints of plot? Incredible. We'll get there yet! Thank you guys for sticking with this fic <3
> 
> Y'know, I tried to write a small filler scene of two dudes walking to the gym and ended up with a complete rejection escalating into everything that happened. WRITING!!! Anyone thinking you control the characters when you write has never touched a keyboard. Gonna have to see what to do about Destinyland, WHICH ISN'T IN THE SCRIPT.
> 
> (Did anyone watch the music video to New Rules btw? 'Cause that's what I imagined the gang and Akira like lol.)


	6. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Goro learns the gift of silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is insane but this fic shall still ... gain  
> Chapter after chapter  
> after all it's my heart's captor.  
> I wish to bring you persona fucking still  
> So please trust in this author's will  
> To come back, again and again  
> Even though the anime calls Akira Ren.
> 
> Yeah it's 3 a.m.. Can you tell I'm tired?

The night was clear, and the ladder was propped against the roof.

Hollowed out as he was, Goro just climbed up and up, not knowing why.

 _To shoo him away._ In all the chaos he had forgotten to notify anyone of the broken lock that allowed this rowdy artist to return here.

“Good evening,” Kitagawa said as Goro appeared, as if they had met on the street unexpectedly and Yusuke was pleased about the company.

“You should not be here,” Goro replied, but he sat down next to Kitagawa. The whole world had tilted, out of control. Why not sit down on the rooftop in the middle of the night and talk to a minor delinquent?

“The view is spectacular as always. Perhaps you will bring me luck again.”

Goro laughed, unable to mask the bitterness of it, drew up his knees and rested his forehead on them. It didn’t matter how he acted right here. Not around this weirdo. It was … freeing. To just feel miserable around another human being.

“... or perhaps I could bring it to you? Though I am afraid I ran out of luck myself.”

There was no edge to the artist’s voice, he sounded only resigned. Not like he expected comfort, or reassurance, and Goro had none to give.

They simply sat in silence for a while, but Goro’s thoughts did not stew as viciously as they had in his own room. He barely replayed Akira’s words, the way he had bounced back so quick from his … invitation.

How viciously his chest hurt was confusing, and frankly Goro was angry, but he did not know at what exactly. So he had spent all day with pent-up energy simmering beneath his skin, topped off with an invitation so carefully worded as a threat that he could not refuse it.

Or perhaps he had not the strength to refuse it. It would take too much cunning, too much time he did not have.

He could run from his room and into the night, but the noose around his neck was tightening either way, and he -

“I have never met a person I can be quiet around,” Kitagawa said into the night. He did not lift his eyes from his sketchbook, hand moving across the paper with graceful, looping movements, forming lines that made no sense to Goro, but then again, he did not go out of his way to look at what Yusuke was drawing.

“... neither have I,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling tired. “You really shouldn’t come up here.”

Yusuke remained quiet as his hand picked up pace, leaving rapid, short lines. When he leaned back, he raised his gaze to the sky. “The painting I’ve been working on. I’ll be able to show it to you tomorrow, I am sure.”

Goro kept his eyes closed and did not remark on that, even though he knew that either his curiosity or his desperation would outweigh.

And after he would report Kitagawa.

He _would._

 

\---

 

Feeling small had been a poison slowly killing him even before Goro could identify it as such. Small, unimportant. Abandoned. So small his existence mattered not an ounce, could be snuffed out. Being small had always forced him to fight, to be louder, bigger, brighter.

To carve a place in a world that rejected him.

But this - it made him feel small in a completely different way. Goro buried his fingers in the sheets, gasping puffs of hot breath against  the fabric as he was held down. Arsene pressed against him, around him, held him down and close at once.

Beneath his weight, Goro felt small in a way that didn’t force him to fight it. He didn’t have to sink his nails in, cling onto everything.

This proximity wasn’t proof he was to be discarded, it made him come alive. With the hammering of his heart and every broken moan spilling from his lips he felt _alive._ Held, seen, acknowledged.

Cherished.

“Arsene,” he whimpered, and even that sound was alright - covered like this, he could allow it. All his shameful truth, all his wishes, all that he kept hidden so carefully.

“What is it that you wish for?” Arsene breathed, stilling. His cock lay heavy along Goro’s bare ass, and it was hard to breathe - it seemed there was not enough oxygen to fill his lungs anymore.

“Hold me tighter,” he gasped, and Arsene did - arms wrapping around him, cradling him.

It was easier to breathe. The more tightly he was held, the easier it was to breathe. It was as simple as that.

“Is that enough for you?” Arsene whispered, but his voice was mocking, as if he’d tasted the answer on Goro’s skin already. It wasn’t, it wasn’t nearly enough. He shifted, the promise of that hot, heavy weight against his skin making Goro whimper again.

What would it be like?

To be connected to someone that way … ?

“No,” he breathed. A kiss seared into his shoulder, made him gasp and shiver. Gently, like a promise, claws dragged down his sides, muscles jumping beneath the touch. He was naked, spread and helpless, and yet he had _chosen it._

This trust. This intimacy.

“It will be a lot to take,” Arsene said darkly, though that sounded like a promise, too.

“We have time, right?” What a concept. To have time. Time to dedicate to nothing but pleasure. But Goro felt hazy, and relaxed, and he wanted this so badly.

“That is your wish, cherished one?”

Goro’s eyes fluttered open, and closed again as he decided - _decided_ \- to surrender control. “Yes?”

Hands gripped his waist, with more force, and there it was again - the pressure against him, spreading him apart. “But maybe it doesn’t need time,” Arsene breathed, and slammed all the way inside him.

Goro cried out, struggling and thrusting and then he was falling. When he blinked his eyes open, he was tangled in his blankets on the floor, embarrassingly hard and blinking right up at Arsene, who wore a curious expression that felt utterly too self-satisfied.

Goro squeezed his eyes shut and knocked the back of his head against the ground. “Arsene.” For someone so desperate to have seen him, Goro sure sounded underwhelmed now. But his heart was racing and his cheeks were flushing deeper with every heartbeat and every memory more of that dream.

“Cherished one. I see you got a little excited. May I lend you a hand?”

And effortlessly, he was scooped into Arsene’s arms. With something decidedly not a _squawk,_ Goro of course thought nothing illicit at all and let Arsene put him back down on the bed and untangle him from the blanket.

“Do you -” Goro’s voice was hoarse. He pushed himself up on his elbows, bunching the blanket in his lap as if that could hide his state. “My dream - did you - were you … ?”

“There is no connection between us beyond any words or touch we may share, much like with any other friend,” Arsene assured him. But his voice rang with a certain kind of amused knowledge.

Goro squinted at him. “And yet you act as if you have been privy to my thoughts.”

“I am here, and on my way, I met Robin on his way to my master. I can … imagine what you may be feeling.” Arsene placed his chin on his palm. “A gentleman such as me would never pry, of course, but may I take it I wasn’t entirely uninvolved … ?”

Goro gaped at him in offense. “That! Is private!”

He looked away, his ears burning so much he expected his hair to catch on fire. Subtle.

Arsene chuckled, a sound that was rich and full and that Goro yearned to feel rumbling against his own body. His thoughts gleefully replayed his dream, unfiltered, filling his tired mind. It was jarring, the difference between the haze of his dream, the intimacy, and sitting here knowing it could never, would never happen.

“There is no shame in fantasy, in desire,” Arsene assured him. “It is healthy and enjoyable. Feel free to share with me whatever you may wish. I _am_ here. My master’s wishes are still the same. A word of yours, and I shall be at your service.” Arsene reached out carefully, and Goro felt himself shudder as a heavy hand settled on his back.

He pressed back against the warmth like a cat would, arching his back, and did not hate himself as much for that as he would have thought he might.

But -

But …

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he said, words falling from him faster than he could gather them, hold them close. As if they may be safe in Arsene’s big palms.

“If that were the case, why would I be here?”

“I do wonder the same,” Goro whispered. He closed his eyes. Should Arsene not know? “Akira does not think of me the way I think of him. He made that very clear. Not that I thought he might ever, however, I -” He faltered.

What was he supposed to say? That knowing, thinking, Akira liked him - paid special attention him - had been a comfort? Something steady and true that gave him something to hold onto without needing to take responsibility?

But then Akira had wanted more than that. And yet, not more at all.

How could Goro agree to that without knowing he’d disappoint him, eventually?

Or without fear of letting him in, of feeling too much for him - of ending up loving him knowing it would not be reciprocated? Goro barely knew how to keep friends beyond what Akira and him had - he had never been particularly good with his peers, always better with adults.

Love was something he could fathom even less, and had no - no time to indulge in.

But he couldn’t get it out of his head, either. It was vexing.

“Talk to me,” Arsene said, not a request, an invitation.

But Goro closed his eyes. Words had burrowed into him all day, taken chunks out of his armor, burned into his mind. They meant nothing anymore, had lost their meaning in his frantic analysis of them.

Goro pulled up his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. How weak he was acting tonight. How weak he _was._

But then the soft whisper of Arsene’s wings brushed around him, closed him in. Pulled him closer against a warm body. With his exhale, tension melted from Goro. Even though he knew what else Arsene had asked for, he whispered: “I have an invitation I cannot refuse, but I truly do not wish to go.”

“There is always a choice,” Arsene said, his wings tightening the slightest bit, arms finding Goro and winding around him. It felt so good, to be held. So endlessly, endlessly comforting. “I am afraid not this time. I have run out of ammunition and excuses. I have left myself vulnerable.” Goro clicked his tongue. “It is my own pathetic fault.”

“Hush, now.” Arsene hummed in thought. “If I may offer my experience … if you cannot avoid the battle, do pick your allies wisely.”

Allies. Goro laughed and it cut down to his flesh. “I thought we have established that I am incapable of such a thing.”

Arsene’s claws brushed through his hair softly, leaving goosebumps in their wake. At last, Goro felt his chuckle rumble against his own body. “Cherished one, can you imagine why it is so hard for me to believe that as you seek shelter with me?”

“You are different,” Goro insisted petulantly. It was - he was different. Arsene was not even human.

“You know why I am here.” Arsene tilted his chin up and pulled away, facing Goro in the safety of his wings. “Do not forget it in the thralls of your own mind.”

“How am I supposed to remember?” Goro asked, voice wavering. He hated himself for it, but he could not - he could not stop it, or take it back.

And Arsene leaned in, the burn of his eyes the last thing Goro saw before his own fluttered shut. The kiss made Goro’s mind jump even before his heart - it was fire brushing against his lips warmly, bending reality to expectations. The difference between their existence meeting halfway, and Goro shivered at how warm, how gentle it was to be touched so simply.

His eyes remained closed, and Goro perfectly still as Arsene pulled away to speak.“This is a promise, cherished one. Trust in my words.”

Slowly, he exhaled. Opened his eyes in a daze.

His mind jumped to analyse, relieved to understand what Arsene had meant declaring his existence a dream, and yet not. It was neither dream nor a reality belonging entirely to this world, but that did not make the lingering warmth on his lips any less real.

Nor the feelings welling inside him in reaction.

Arsene tilted him softly over, back to lying down, and Goro only opened his eyes again when he was safely buried against his chest, beneath another wide wing.

It was so warm, so secure.

If only Goro could stay here forever.

“I do not know how to trust,” Goro breathed, a shameful whisper that he knew should go unheard, but could not bring himself not to entrust to Arsene as well.

“Then it is high time to learn, is it not?” Arsene breathed back.

 

\---

 

Only lulled into the haze of pleasant dreams did Arsene leave the boy.

He looked peaceful at last, dawn breaking and painting his room in softer, kinder colours. His face was round and young, his body lanky, but not starved.

The protectiveness Arsene felt did not belong as much and entirely to Akira as he liked to let the humans know.

Had he been able to, perhaps he had remained at Akechi Goro’s side, or returned to Akira.

It was not the sun that called him away, but the fracture in the air. The distortion lingering at the edge of his vision once more, like the cold dread before a blade swang down.

Robin met him as if called by the same pull, his frame as bright and wide as always, and yet he did not carry himself with the weight that befitted his power.

As much as Arsene held fast to his belief in his old friend, he could not help but worry about Robin’s uncertainty. Treading the careful path did not always mean the least danger.

“Robin,” he said, inclining his head. “Has my master found restful sleep?”

“I have made certain of it, as no doubt have you,” Robin replied warmly, though Arsene knew him too well not to see the trouble lingering in his eyes. They both felt it too keenly, this fear.

“Speak, my old friend,” Arsene said. “Let us not dawdle keeping truths to ourselves. We are too distinguished for such foolery.”

Robin turned his gaze towards the rising sun, a campus stirring. A world so different from what they had known so far, yet again. “How right you are,” Robin sighed. “No wars nor bloodshed, no political games in which my master thinks himself a spider when truly he is a fly tangled in their web. And yet …”

“You cannot lose faith in him,” Arsene said, with urgency. He stepped closer, putting one hand on Robin’s arm. “You of all people cannot. Our past does not matter. This is the present, and you’d do better focusing on it.”

Robin leaned into his touch the slightest bit, accepting the comfort. His smile was easier, though his eyes remained wistful. “It is hard not to think of all the lives we have lived, old friend. But I will take it as an omen to have you by my side and tip the scales in our favour.”

“This is the kindness of this world,” Arsene said softly. “They shall live no matter our choices. All that is left to us is steer them on a path to honesty, and happiness.”

“How simple it sounds from your mouth.”

“It is both the simplest and the most complicated thing in the world.”

Robin shook his head, and turned with a billow of his cape, Arsene’s hand falling away to his own side. “Will you accompany me for a walk? Your presence would be much appreciated.”

“Of course I will,” Arsene said, steeling his shoulders against the oppressive gaze of Loki nearby.

Nothing was lost yet, but they could not let the peace of this world fool them into letting their guard down.

Arsene would never make that mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!! IT'S A REINCARNATION FIC! Technically.
> 
> Also, THERE WAS THE PERSONA FUCKING. Kind of. Shout-out to Ara who heard my despair and told me 'just make it a dream'. I done did it! Yay!


End file.
